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HEREWARD  THE  WAKE 


H-w-  Page  409. 

"A  shower  of  arrows  fell  upon  the  column." 

A 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKL 

CHARLES  KINGSLEY 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  A.A.DixoN 


LONDON  &.  GLASGOW 
COLLINS' CLEAR-TYPE  PRESS 


TO 

THOMAS  WRIGHT,  ESQ.,  F.S.A.,  ETC. 

MY  DEAR  WRIGHT, 

THUS  does  Hareward,  the  hero  of  your 
youth,  reappear  at  last  in  a  guise  fitted  for  a 
modern  drawing-room.  To  you  is  due  whatever 
new  renown  he  may  win  for  himself  in  that  new 
field.  You  first  disinterred  him,  long  ago,  when 
scarcely  a  hand  or  foot  of  him  was  left  standing 
out  from  beneath  the  dust  of  ages.  You  taught 
me,  since  then,  how  to  furbish  his  rusty  harness, 
botch  his  bursten  saddle,  and  send  him  forth 
once  more,  upon  the  ghost  of  his  gallant  mare. 
Truly  he  should  feel  obliged  to  you ;  and  though 
we  cannot  believe  that  the  last  infirmity  of  noble 
minds  endures  beyond  the  grave,  or  that  any 
touch  of  his  old  vanity  still  stains  the  spirit  of 
the  mighty  Wake  ;  yet  we  will  please  ourselves — 
why  should  we  not  ? — with  the  fancy  that  he  is 
as  grateful  to  you  as  I  am  this  day. 

Yours  faithfully, 

C.  KINGSLEY. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PACK 

PRELUDE OF  THE  FENS  j 

I.    HOW    HEREWARD     WAS     OUTLAWED,     AND     WENT 

NORTH  TO  SEEK  HIS  FORTUNES  2O 

II.    HOW  HEREWARD  SLEW  THE  BEAR  60 

III.  HOW     HEREWARD     SUCCOURED     A     PRINCESS     OF 

CORNWALL  75 

IV.  HOW    HEREWARD    TOOK    SERVICE    WITH    RANALD, 

KING  OF  WATERFORD  97 

V.    HOW    HEREWARD    SUCCOURED    THE    PRINCESS    OF 

CORNWALL  A  SECOND  TIME  III 

VI.    HOW     HEREWARD      WAS     WRECKED      UPON     THE 

FLANDERS    SHORE  Iig 

VII.  HOW  HEREWARD  WENT  TO  THE  WAR  AT  GUISNES     136 

VIII.  HOW  A  FAIR  LADY  EXERCISED  THE  MECHANICAL 

ART  TO  WIN  HEREWARD'S  LOVE  143 

IX.  HOW  HEREWARD  WENT  TO  THE  WAR  IN  SCALD- 

MARILAND  150 

X.  HOW  HEREWARD  WON  THE  MAGIC  ARMOUR  158 

XI.  HOW  THE  HOLLANDERS  TOOK  HEREWARD  FOR  A 

MAGICIAN  173 

XII.  HOW  HEREWARD  TURNED  BERSERK  174 

XIII.  HOW  HEREWARD  WON  MARE  SWALLOW  l8l 

XIV.  HOW  HEREWARD   RODE  INTO   BRUGES  LIKE  A 

BEGGARMAN  190 

XV.  HOW     EARL     TOSTI     GODWINSSON     CAME     TO 

ST.  OMER  197 

XVI.    HOW    HEREWARD    WAS    ASKED    TO    SLAY    AN    OLD 

COMRADE  2O9 

XVII.    HOW    HEREWARD    TOOK    THE    NEWS    FROM    STAN- 
FORD BRIGG  AND  HASTINGS  2Ig 

XVIII.    HOW  EARL  GODWIN'S  WIDOW  CAME  TO  ST.   OMER       231 
vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGB 

XIX.    HOW  HEREWARD   CLEARED   BOURNE  OF  FRENCH- 
MEN ?49 
XX.    HOW    HEREWARD    WAS    MADE    A    KNIGHT    AFTER 

THE  FASHION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  265 

XXI.    HOW   IVO   TAILLEBOIS   MARCHED    OUT   OF   SPALD- 

ING  TOWN  282 
XXII.   HOW    HEREWARD    SAILED    FOR    ENGLAND    ONCE 

AND  FOR  ALL  2QI 

XXIII.  HOW  HEREWARD  GATHERED  AN  ARMY  298 

XXIV.  HOW  ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED  DIED  OF  SORROW  319 

XXV.    HOW      HEREWARD      FOUND      A      WISER      MAN      IN 

ENGLAND  THAN  HIMSELF  323 

XXVI.    HOW     HEREWARD     FULFILLED     HIS     WORDS     TO 

THE  PRIOR  OF  THE  GOLDEN  BOROUGH  335 

XXVII.    HOW    THEY    HELD    A    GREAT    MEETING    IN    THE 

HALL  OF  ELY  361 

XXVIII.    HOW  THEY  FOUGHT  AT  ALDRETH  367 

XXIX.    HOW  SIR  DEDA  BROUGHT  NEWS  FROM  ELY  374 

XXX.    HOW    HEREWARD     PLAYED    THE     POTTER  J      AND 

HOW  HE  CHEATED  THE  KING  382 

XXXI.    HOW  THEY  FOUGHT  AGAIN  AT  ALDRETH  403 

XXXII.    HOW  KING  WILLIAM  TOOK  COUNSEL  OF  A  CHURCH- 
MAN 411 

XXXIII.  HOW    THE    MONKS     OF    ELY     DID     AFTER     THEIR 

KIND 

XXXIV.  HOW  HEREWARD  WENT  TO  THE  GREENWOOD 
XXXV.    HOW  ABBOT  THOROLD  WAS  PUT  TO  RANSOM 

XXXVI.    HOW  ALFTRUDA  WROTE  TO  HEREWARD 
XXXVII.    HOW  HEREWARD  LOST  SWORD  BRAINBITER 
XXXVIII.    HOW  HEREWARD  CAME  IN  TO  THE  KING 

XXXIX.    HOW     TORFRIDA      CONFESSED      THAT      SHE      HAD 
BEEN  INSPIRED  BY  THE  DEVIL 

XL.    HOW  EARL  WALTHEOF  WAS  MADE  A  SAINT 

XLI.    HOW     HEREWARD     BEGAN     TO     GET     HIS     SOUL'S 
PRICE 

XLII.    HOW  DEEPING  FEN  WAS  DRAINED. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE, 

"LAST  OF  THE   ENGLISH." 


PRELUDE. 

OF   THE    FENS. 

THE  heroic  deeds  of  Highlanders,  both  in  these  islands 
and  elsewhere,  have  been  told  in  verse  and  prose,  and 
not  more  often,  nor  more  loudly,  than  they  deserve. 
But  we  must  remember,  now  and  then,  that  there  have 
been  heroes  likewise  in  the  lowland  and  in  the  fen. 
Why,  however,  poets  have  so  seldom  sung  of  them  ; 
why  no  historian,  save  Mr.  Motley  in  his  Jttse  of  the 
Dutch  Republic,  has  condescended  to  tell  the  tale  of  their 
doughty  deeds,  is  a  question  not  difficult  to  answer. 

In  the  first  place,  they  have  been  fewer  in  number. 
The  lowlands  of  the  world,  being  the  richest  spots, 
have  been  generally  the  soonest  conquered,  the  soonest 
civilised,  and  therefore  the  soonest  taken  out  of  the 
sphere  of  romance  and  wild  adventure,  into  that  of 
order  and  law,  hard  work  and  common  sense,  as  well 
as — too  often — into  the  sphere  of  slavery,  cowardice, 
luxury,  and  ignoble  greed.  The  lowland  populations, 
for  the  same  reasons,  have  been  generally  the  first  to 
deteriorate,  though  not  on  account  of  the  vices  o\ 
civilisation.  The  vices  of  incivtlisation  are  far  worse, 
and  far  more  destructive  of  human  life  ;  and  it  is  just 
because  they  are  so,  that  rude  tribes  deteriorate 
physically  less  than  polished  nations.  In  the  savage 
struggle  for  life,  none  but  the  strongest,  healthiest, 
cunningest,  have  a  chance  of  living,  prospering,  and 
propagating  their  race.  In  the  civilised  state,  on  the 
contrary,  the  weakliest  and  the  silliest,  protected  by 


2  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

law,  religion,  and  humanity,  have  their  chance  like- 
wise, and  transmit  to  their  offspring  their  own 
weakliness  or  silliness.  In  these  islands,  for  instance, 
at  the  time  of  the  Norman  Conquest,  the  average  of 
man  was  doubtless  superior,  both  in  body  and  mind, 
to  the  average  of  man  now,  simply  because  the 
weaklings  could  not  have  lived  at  all ;  and  the  rich 
and  delicate  beauty,  in  which  the  women  of  the 
Eastern  Counties  still  surpass  all  other  races  in  these 
isles,  was  doubtless  far  more  common  in  proportion 
to  the  numbers  of  the  population. 

Another  reason  why  lowland  heroes  "carent  vate 
sacro,"  is  that  the  lowlands  and  those  who  live  in 
them  are  wanting  in  the  poetic  and  romantic  elements. 
There  is  in  the  lowland  none  of  that  background  of 
the  unknown,  fantastic,  magical,  terrible,  perpetually 
feeding  curiosity  and  wonder,  which  still  remains  in 
the  Scottish  highlands  ;  and  which,  when  it  disappears 
from  thence,  will  remain  embalmed  for  ever  in  the 
pages  of  Walter  Scott.  Against  that  half-magical 
background  his  heroes  stand  out  in  vivid  relief;  and 
justly  so.  It  was  not  put  there  by  him  for  stage 
purposes ;  it  as  there  was  a  fact ;  and  the  men  of 
whom  he  wrote  were  conscious  of  it,  were  moulded 
by  it,  were  not  ashamed  of  its  influence.  For  Nature 
among  the  mountains  is  too  fierce,  too  strong  for  man. 
He  cannot  conquer  her,  and  she  awes  him.  He 
cannot  dig  down  the  cliffs,  or  chain  the  storm-blasts  ; 
and  his  fear  of  them  takes  bodily  shape :  he  begins 
to  people  the  weird  places  of  the  earth  with  weird 
beings,  and  sees  nixes  in  the  dark  linns  as  he  fishes 
by  night,  dwarfs  in  the  caves  where  he  digs,  half 
trembling,  morsels  of  iron  and  copper  for  his  weapons, 
witches  and  demons  on  the  snow-blast  which  over^ 
whelms  his  herd  and  his  hut,  and  in  the  dark  clouds 
which  brood  on  the  untrodden  mountain  peak.  He 
lives  in  fear  :  and  yet,  if  he  be  a  valiant-hearted 
man,  his  fears  do  him  little  harm.  They  may  break 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  3 

out,  at  times,  in  witch-manias,  with  all  their  horrible 
suspicions,  and  thus  breed  cruelty,  which  is  the  child 
of  fear :  but  on  the  whole  they  rather  produce  in 
man  thoughtfulness,  reverence,  a  sense,  confused  yet 
precious,  of  the  boundless  importance  of  the  unseen 
world.  His  superstitions  develop  his  imagination; 
the  moving  accidents  of  a  wild  life  call  out  in  him 
sympathy  and  pathos;  and  the  mountaineer  becomes 
instinctively  a  poet. 

The  lowlander,  on  the  other  hand,  has  his  own 
strength,  his  own  "  virtues,"  or  manfulnesses,  in  the 
good  old  sense  of  the  word :  but  they  are  not  for  the 
most  part  picturesque,  or  even  poetical. 

He  finds  out,  soon  enough  for  his  weal  and  his 
bane,  that  he  is  stronger  than  Nature  :  and  right 
tyrannously  and  irreverently  he  lords  it  over  her, 
clearing,  delving,  dyking,  building,  without  fear  or 
shame.  He  knows  of  no  natural  force  greater  than 
himself,  save  an  occasional  thunder-storm;  and 
against  that,  as  he  grows  more  cunning,  he  insures 
his  crops.  Why  should  he  reverence  Nature?  Let 
him  use  her,  and  live  by  her.  One  cannot  blame  him. 
Man  was  sent  into  the  world  (so  says  the  Scripture) 
to  fill  and  subdue  the  earth.  But  he  was  sent  into 
the  world  for  other  purposes  also,  which  the  lowlander 
is  but  too  apt  to  forget.  With  the  awe  of  Nature,  the 
awe  of  the  unseen  dies  out  in  him.  Meeting  with  no 
visible  superior,  he  is  apt  to  become  not  merely  un- 
poetical  and  irreverent,  but  somewhat  of  a  sensualist 
and  an  atheist.  The  sense  of  the  beautiful  dies  out 
in  him  more  and  more.  He  has  little  or  nothing 
around  him  to  refine  or  lift  up  his  soul;  and  unless  he 
meet  with  a  religion,  and  with  a  civilisation,  which 
can  deliver  him,  he  may  sink  into  that  dull  brutality 
which  is  too  common  amongst  the  lowest  classes  of 
the  English  lowlands;  and  remain  for  generations 
gifted  with  the  strength  and  industry  of  the  ox.  and 
with  the  courage  of  the  lion,  bat,  alas  1  with  the 


4  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

intellect  of  the  former,  and  the  self-restraint  of  the 
latter. 

Nevertheless,  there  may  be  a  period  in  the  history 
of  a  lowland  race  when  they,  too,  become  historic 
for  a  while.  There  was  such  a  period  for  the  men  of 
the  Eastern  and  Central  Counties  ;  for  they  proved 
it  by  their  deeds. 

When  the  men  of  Wessex,  the  once  conquering, 
and  even  to  the  last  the  most  civilised,  race  of 
Britain,  fell  at  Hastings  once  and  for  all,  and  struck 
no  second  blow,  then  the  men  of  the  Danelagh  dis- 
dained to  yield  to  the  Norman  invader.  For  seven 
long  years  they  held  their  own,  not  knowing,  like 
true  Englishmen,  when  they  were  beaten  ;  and  fought 
on  desperate,  till  there  were  [none  left  to  fight. 
Their  bones  lay  white  on  every  island  in  the  fens  ; 
their  corpses  rotted  on  gallows  beneath  every  Norman 
keep ;  their  few  survivors  crawled  into  monasteries, 
with  eyes  picked  out,  hands  and  feet  cut  off;  or 
took  to  the  wild  wood  as  strong  outlaws,  like  their 
successors  and  representatives,  Robin  Hood,  Scarlet, 
and  Little  John  ;  Adam  Bell,  and  Clym  of  the  Cleugh, 
and  William  of  Cloudeslee.  But  they  never  really 
bent  their  necks  to  the  Norman  yoke ;  they  kept 
alive  in  their  hearts  that  proud  spirit  of  personal 
independence,  which  they  brought  with  them  from 
the  moors  of  Denmark  and  the  dales  of  Norway  ; 
and  they  kept  alive,  too,  though  in  abeyance  for 
awhile,  those  free  institutions  which  were  without 
a  doubt  the  germs  of  our  British  liberty. 

They  were  a  changed  folk  since  first  they  settled  in 
that  Danelagh  : — since  first  in  the  days  of  King 
Beorhtric,  "in  the  year  787,  three  ships  of  Northmen 
came  from  Haeretha  land,  and  the  King's  reeve  rode 
to  the  place,  and  would  have  driven  them  up  to  the 
King's  town,  for  he  knew  not  what  men  they  were  : 
but  they  slew  him  there  and  then  "  ;  and  after  that 
the  Saxons  and  Angles  began  to  find  out  to  their 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  5 

bitter  bale  what  men  they  were,  those  fierce  Vikings 
out  of  the  dark  north-east. 

But  they  had  long  ceased  to  burn  farms,  sack 
convents,  torture  monks  for  gold,  and  slay  every 
human  being  they  met,  in  mere  Berserker  lust  of 
blood.  No  Barnakill  could  now  earn  his  nickname  by 
entreating  his  comrades,  as  they  tossed  the  children 
on  their  spear-points,  to  "Na  kill  the  barns." 
Gradually  they  had  settled  down  on  the  land,  inter- 
married with  the  Angles  and  Saxons,  and  colonised 
all  England  north  and  east  of  Watling  Street  (a 
rough  line  from  London  to  Chester),  as  far  as 
the  Tees.1  Gradually  they  had  deserted  Thor  and 
Odin  for  "the  White  Christ";  had  their  own 
priests  and  bishops,  and  built  their  own  minsters. 
The  convents  which  the  fathers  had  destroyed,  the 
sons,  or  at  least  the  grandsons,  rebuilt ;  and  often, 
casting  away  sword  and  axe,  they  entered  them  as 
monks  themselves  ;  and  Peterborough,  Ely,  and 
above  all  Crowland,  destroyed  by  them  in  Alfred's 
time  with  a  horrible  destruction,  had  become  their 
holy  places,  where  they  decked  the  altars  with  gold 
and  jewels,  with  silks  from  the  far  East,  and  furs 
from  the  far  North  ;  and  where,  as  in  sacred  fortresses, 
they,  and  the  liberty  of  England  with  them,  made 
their  last  unavailing  stand. 

1  For  the  distribution  of  Danish  and  Norwegian  names  in  England  and  the 
prevalence.  North  of  the  Danelagh,  from  Tees  to  Forth,  of  names  neither 
Scandinavian  nor  Celtic,  but  purely  Anglo-Saxon,  consult  the  Rev.  Isaac 
Taylor's  book,  Words  and  Places.  Bear  in  mind,  meanwhile,  that  these  names 
represent  for  the  most  part,  if  not  altogether,  the  Danish  and  Norse  settlement 
at  the  end  of  the  ninth  century;  but  that  this  Scandinavian  element  was 
further  strengthened  by  the  free  men  who  conquered  England  under  Sweyn  and 
Canute,  at  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  century.  These  men  seem  to  have 
become  not  so  much  settlers  of  great  lands  as  an  intrusive  military  aristocracy, 
who  gave  few  or  no  names  to  estates,  but  amalgamated  themselves  rapidly  by 
marriage  with  the  remnants  of  that  English  nobility  which  was  destroyed  at 
the  battle  of  Assingdon.  This  fact  explains  the  number  of  purely  Anglo-Saxon 
names  to  be  met  with  among  Hereward's  companions.  Some  of  them,  lik» 
"  Goderic  of  Corby,"  themselves  with  English  names,  held  manors  with  Danish 
ones,  even  in  that  part  of  Lincolnshire  where  the  Scandinavian  element  was 
strongest.  In  fact  the  aristocracies  and  the  two  races  had  been  thoroughly  amal- 
gamated, not  merely  in  the  Danelagh,  but  over  th«  greater  part  of  England, 
and  must  be  called,  as  in  the  case  of  King  Harold  Godwinsson,  neither  Saxoot 
nor  Ando-Saxons,  but  rather  Anglo-Danes. 


6  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

For  awhile  they  had  been  lords  of  all  England. 
The  Anglo-Saxon  race  was  wearing  out.  The  men 
of  Wessex,  priest-ridden,  and  enslaved  by  their  own 
aristocracy,  quailed  before  the  free  Norsemen,  among 
whom  was  not  a  single  serf.  The  God-descended  line 
of  Cerdic  and  Alfred  was  exhausted.  Vain,  in- 
capable, profligate  kings,  the  tools  of  such  prelates 
as  Odo  and  Dunstan,  were  no  match  for  such  wild 
heroes  as  Thorkill  the  Tall,  or  Olaf  Trygvasson,  or 
Swend  Forkbeard.  The  Danes  had  gradually  seized, 
not  only  their  own  Danelagh  and  Northumbria, 
but  great  part  of  Wessex.  Vast  sums  of  Danegelt 
were  yearly  sent  out  of  the  country  to  buy  off  the 
fresh  invasions  which  were  perpetually  threatened. 
Then  Ethelred  the  Unready,  or  rather  Evil-counsel, 
advised  himself  to  fulfil  his  name,  and  the  curse 
which  Dunstan  had  pronounced  against  him  at  the 
baptismal  font.  By  his  counsel  the  men  of  Wessex 
rose  against  the  unsuspecting  Danes ;  and  on  St. 
Brice's  eve,  A.D.  1002,  murdered  them  all,  or  nearly 
all,  man,  woman,  and  child.  It  may  be  that  they 
only  did  to  the  children  as  the  fathers  had  done 
to  them:  but  the  deed  was  "worse  than  a  crime; 
it  was  a  mistake."  The  Danes  of  the  Danelagh  and 
of  Northumbria,  their  brothers  of  Denmark  and 
Norway,  the  Orkneys  and  the  east  coast  of  Ireland, 
remained  unharmed.  A  mighty  host  of  Vikings 
poured  from  thence  into  England  the  very  next  year, 
under  Swend  Forkbeard  and  the  great  Canute  ;  and 
after  thirteen  fearful  campaigns  came  the  great  battle 
of  Assingdown  in  Essex — where  "Canute  had  the 
victory ;  and  all  the  English  nation  fought  against 
him  ;  and  all  the  nobility  of  the  English  race  was 
there  destroyed." 

That  same  year  saw  the  mysterious  death  of  Edmund 
Ironside,  the  last  man  of  Cerdic's  race  worthy  of  the 
name.  For  the  next  twenty-five  years,  Danish  kings 
ruled  from  the  Forth  to  the  Land's  End. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  7 

A  noble  figure  he  was,  that  great  and  wise  Canute, 
the  friend  of  the  famous  Godiva,  and  Leofric,  Godiva's 
husband,  and  Godwin  Ulfnothsson,  and  Siward  Digre  ; 
trying  to  expiate  by  justice  and  mercy  the  dark  deeds 
of  his  blood-stained  youth  ;  trying  (and  not  in  vain)  to 
blend  the  two  races  over  which  he  ruled  ;  rebuilding 
the  churches  and  monasteries  which  his  father  had 
destroyed  ;  bringing  back  in  state  to  Canterbury  the 
body  of  Archbishop  Elphege — not  unjustly  called  by 
the  Saxons  martyr  and  saint — whom  Tall  Thorkill's 
men  had  murdered  with  beef  bones  and  ox  skulls, 
because  he  would  not  give  up  to  them  the  money 
destined  for  God's  poor  ;  rebuking,  as  every  child  has 
heard,  his  housecarles'  flattery  by  setting  his  chair 
on  the  brink  of  the  rising  tide  ;  and  then  laying  his 
golden  crown,  in  token,  of  humility,  on  the  high  altar 
of  Winchester,  never  to  wear  it  more.  In  Winchester 
lie  his  bones  unto  this  day,  or  what  of  them  the  civil 
wars  have  left ;  and  by  them  lie  the  bones  of  his  son 
Hardicanute,  in  whom,  as  in  his  half-brother  Harold 
Harefoot  before  him,  the  Danish  power  fell  to  swift 
decay,  by  insolence  and  drink  and  civil  war  ;  while 
with  the  Danish  power  England  fell  to  pieces 
likewise. 

Canute  had  divided  England  into  four  great 
Earldoms,  each  ruled,  under  him,  by  a  jarl,  or  earl, 
a  Danish,  not  a  Saxon  title. 

At  his  death  in  1036,  the  earldoms  of  Northumbria 
and  East  Anglia — the  more  strictly  Danish  parts — 
were  held  by  a  true  Danish  hero,  Siward  Biorn,  alias 
Digre,  "the  Stout,"  conqueror  of  Macbeth,  and  son 
of  the  fairy  bear  ;  proving  his  descent,  men  said,  by 
his  pointed  and  hairy  ears. 

Mercia,  the  great  central  plateau  of  England,  was 
held  by  Earl  Leofric,  husband  of  the  famous  Lady 
Godiva. 

Wessex,  which  Canute  had  at  first  kept  in  his  own 
hands,  had  passed  into  those  of  the  famous  Earl 


8  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

Godwin,  the  then  ablest  man  in  England.  Possessed 
of  boundless  tact  and  cunning,  gifted  with  an  eloquence, 
which  seems  from  the  accounts  remaining  of  it  to  have 
been  rather  that  of  a  Greek  than  an  Englishman  ;  and 
married  to  Canute's  niece,1  he  was  fitted,  alike  by 
fortunes  and  by  talents,  to  be  the  king-maker  which 
he  became. 

Such  a  system  may  have  worked  well  as  long  as  the 
brain  of  a  hero  was  there  to  overlook  it  all.  But  when 
that  brain  was  turned  to  dust,  the  history  of  England 
became,  till  the  Norman  Conquest,  little  more  than 
the  history  of  the  rivalries  of  the  two  great  houses  of 
Godwin  and  Leofric. 

Leofric  had  the  first  success  in  king-making.  He, 
though  bearing  a  Saxon  name,  seems  to  have  been  the 
champion  of  the  Danish  party,  and  of  Canute's  son,  or 
reputed  son,  Harold  Harefoot;  and  he  succeeded,  by 
the  help  of  the  Thanes  north  of  Thames,  and  the 
lithsmen  of  London,  which  city  was  more  than  half 
Danish  in  those  days,  in  setting  his  puppet  on  the 
throne.  But  the  blood  of  Canute  had  exhausted  itself. 
Within  seven  years  Harold  Harefoot,  and  Hardicanute, 
who  succeeded  him,  had  died  as  foully  as  they  lived  ; 
and  Godwin's  turn  had  come. 

He,  though  married  to  a  Danish  princess,  and 
acknowledging  his  Danish  connection  by  the  Norse 
names  which  were  borne  by  his  three  most  famous 
sons,  Harold,  Sweyn,  and  Tostig,  constituted  himself 
(with  a  sound  patriotic  instinct)  the  champion  of  the 
men  of  Wessex,  and  the  house  of  Cerdic.  He  had 
probably  caused,  or  at  least  allowed,  to  be  murdered, 
Alfred,  the  Etheling,  King  Ethelred's  son  and  heir 

i  The  ArcJueobfical  Journal,  in  vol.  xi.  and  vol.  xii.,  contains  two  excellent 
Articles  on  the  Life  and  Death  of  Earl  Godwin,  from  the  pen  of  that  able 
antiquary,  E.  A.  Freeman,  Esq.  By_  him  the  facts  of  Godwin  s  life  have  been 
more  carefully  investigated,  and  his  character  more  fully  judged,  than  by 
any  author  of  whom  I  am  aware ;  and  I  am  the  more  bound  to  draw  attention 
to  these  articles,  because,  some  years  since,  I  had  a  little  paper  controversy 
with  Mr.  Freeman  on  this  very  subject.  I  have  now  the  pleasure  of  saying 
that  he  has  proved  himself  to  have  been  in  the  right,  while  I  was  in  the  wro'ng. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  9 

apparent,  when  he  was  supporting  the  claims  of 
Hardicanute  against  Harefoot ;  he  now  tried  to  atone 
for  that  crime  (if  indeed  he  actually  committed  it),  by 
placing  Alfred's  younger  brother  on  the  throne,  to 
become  at  once  his  king,  his  son-in-law,  and  his 
puppet. 

It  had  been  well,  perhaps,  for  England,  had 
Godwin's  power  over  Edward  been  even  more  com- 
plete than  it  actually  was.  The  "Confessor"  was, 
if  we  are  to  believe  the  monks,  unmixed  virtue  and 
piety,  meekness  and  magnanimity ;  a  model  ruler 
of  men.  No  wonder,  therefore,  that  (according  to 
William  of  Malmesbury)  the  happiness  of  his  times 
(famed  as  he  was  both  for  miracles  and  the  spirit  of 
prophecy)  was  revealed  in  a  dream  to  Brithwin  bishop 
of  Wilton  who  made  it  public ;  for,  meditating  in 
King  Canute's  time  on  the  near  extinction  of  the 
royal  race  of  the  English,  he  was  rapt  up  on  high, 
and  saw  St.  Peter  consecrating  Edward  king.  "  His 
chaste  life  also  was  pointed  out,  and  the  exact  period 
of  his  reign  (twenty  -  four  years)  determined  ;  and 
when  he  inquired  about  his  posterity,  it  was  answered, 
'  The  kingdom  of  the  English  belongs  to  God.  After 
Edward,  He  will  provide  a  king  according  to  His 
pleasure.'"  But  the  conduct  which  earned  him  the 
title  of  Confessor  was  the  direct  cause  of  the  Norman 
Conquest  and  the  ruin  of  his  people  ;  while  those  who 
will  look  at  facts  will  see  in  the  holy  king's  character 
little  but  what  is  pitiable ;  and  in  his  reign  little  but 
what  is  tragical. 

Civil  wars,  invasions,  outlawry  of  Godwin  and  his 
sons  by  the  Danish  and  French  parties  ;  then  of  Alfgar, 
Leofric's  son,  by  the  Saxon  party  ;  the  outlaws  on 
either  side  attacking  and  plundering  the  English 
shores  by  the  help  of  Norsemen,  Welshmen,  Irish, 
and  Danes — any  mercenaries  who  could  be  got  to- 
gether;  and  then — "In  the  same  year  Bishop  Aldred 
consecrated  the  minster  at  Gloucester  to  the  glory  of 


io  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

God  and  of  St.  Peter,  and  then  went  to  Jerusalem 
with  such  splendour  as  no  man  had  displayed  before 
him  "  ;  and  so  forth.  The  sum  and  substance  of  what 
was  done  in  those  "happy  times"  may  be  well  de- 
scribed in  the  words  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  chronicler 
for  the  year  1058.  "This  year  Alfgar  the  earl  was 
banished  :  but  he  came  in  again  with  violence,  through 
aid  of  Griffin  (the  king  of  North  Wales,  his  brother-in- 
law).  And  this  year  came  a  fleet  from  Norway.  It 

is  tedious  to  tell  how  these  matters  went." These 

were  the  normal  phenomena  of  a  reign  which  seemed, 
to  the  eyes  of  chroniclers,  a  holy  and  a  happy  one  ; 
because  the  king  refused,  whether  from  spite  or  super- 
stition, to  leave  an  heir  to  the  house  of  Cerdic,  and 
spent  his  time  between  prayer,  hunting,  the  seeing  of 
fancied  visions,  the  uttering  of  fancied  prophecies,  and 
the  performance  of  fancied  miracles. 

But  there  were  excuses  for  him.  An  Englishman 
only  in  name,  a  Norman,  not  only  by  his  mother's 
descent  (she  was  aunt  of  William  the  Conqueror),  but 
by  his  early  education  on  the  Continent,  he  loved  the 
Norman  better  than  the  Englishman  ;  Norman  knights 
and  clerks  filled  his  court,  and  often  the  high  dignities 
of  his  provinces,  and  returned  as  often  as  they 
were  expelled  ;  the  Norman-French  language  became 
fashionable  ;  Norman  customs  and  manners  the  signs 
of  civilisation  ;  and  thus  all  was  preparing  steadily  for 
the  great  catastrophe,  by  which,  within  a  year  of 
Edward's  death,  the  Norman  became  master  of  the 
land. 

We  have  gained,  doubtless,  by  that  calamity.  By 
it  England  and  Scotland,  and  in  due  time  Ireland, 
became  integral  parts  of  the  comity  of  Christendom, 
and  partakers  of  that  classic  civilisation  and  learning, 
the  fount  whereof,  for  good  and  for  evil,  was  Rome 
and  the  Pope  of  Rome  :  but  the  method  was  at  least 
wicked  j  the  actors  in  it  tyrannous>  brutal,  treacherous, 
hypocritical :  and  to  say  that  so  it  must  have  been  ; 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  n 

that  by  no  other  method  could  the  result  (or  some 
far  better  result)  have  been  obtained, — is  it  not  to  say 
that  men's  crimes  are  not  merely  overruled  by,  but 
necessary  to,  the  gracious  designs  of  Providence  ;  and 
that — to  speak  plainly — the  Deity  has  made  this  world 
so  ill  that  He  is  forced  at  times  to  do  ill  that  good 
may  come  ? 

Against  the  new  tyranny  the  free  men  of  the 
Danelagh  and  of  Northumbria  rose.  If  Edward  the 
descendant  of  Cerdic  had  been  little  to  them,  William 
the  descendant  of  Rollo  was  still  less.  That  French- 
speaking  knights  should  expel  them  from  their  homes, 
French-chanting  monks  from  their  convents,  because 
Edward  had  promised  the  crown  of  England  to 
William,  his  foreign  cousin  ;  or  because  Harold  God- 
winsson  of  Wessex  had  sworn  on  the  relics  of  all  the 
saints  to  be  William's  man  ;  was  contrary  to  their 
common  sense  of  right  and  reason. 

So  they  rose,  and  fought ;  too  late,  it  may  be,  and 
without  unity  or  purpose  ;  and  they  were  worsted  by 
an  enemy  who  had,  both  unity  and  purpose  ;  whom 
superstition,  greed,  and  feudal  discipline  kept  to- 
gether, at  least  in  England,  in  one  compact  body  of 
unscrupulous  and  terrible  confederates. 

And  theirs  was  a  land  worth  fighting  for — a  good 
land  and  large  :  from  Humber  mouth  inland  to  the 
Trent  and  merry  Sherwood,  across  to  Chester  and  the 
Dee,  round  by  Leicester  and  the  five  burghs  of  the 
Danes  ;  eastward  again  to  Huntingdon  and  Cambridge 
(then  a  poor  village  on  the  site  of  an  old  Roman 
town) ;  and  then  northward  again  into  the  wide  fens, 
the  land  of  the  Girvii,  where  the  great  central  plateau 
of  England  slides  into  the  sea,  to  form,  from  the 
rain  and  river  washings  of  eight  shires,  lowlands 
of  a  fertility  inexhaustible,  because  ever-growing  to 
this  day. 

Into  those  fens,  as  into  a  natural  fortress,  the  Anglo- 
Danish  noblemen  crowded  down  instinctively  from  the 


12  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

inland,  to  make  their  last  stand  against  the  French. 
Children  of  the  old  Vikings,  or  "  Creekers,"  they  took, 
in  their  great  need,  to  the  seaward  and  the  estuaries, 
as  other  conquered  races  take  to  the  mountains,  and 
died,  like  their  forefathers,  within  scent  of  the  salt  sea 
from  whence  they  came. 

They  have  a  beauty  of  their  own,  these  great  fens, 
even  now,  when  they  are  dyked  and  drained,  tilled  and 
fenced — a  beauty  as  of  the  sea,  of  boundless  expanse 
and  freedom.  Much  more  had  they  that  beauty  eight 
hundred  years  ago,  when  they  were  still,  for  the  most 
part,  as  God  had  made  them,  or  rather  was  making 
them  even  then.  The  low  rolling  uplands  were  clothed 
in  primeval  forest :  oak  and  ash,  beech  and  elm,  with 
here  and  there,  perhaps,  a  group  of  ancient  pines, 
ragged  and  decayed,  and  fast  dying  out  in  England 
even  then  ;  though  lingering  still  in  the  forests  of  the 
Scotch  highlands. 

Between  the  forests  were  open  wolds,  dotted  with 
white  sheep  and  golden  gorse  ;  rolling  plains  of  rich 
though  ragged  turf,  whether  cleared  by  the  hand  of 
man  or  by  the  wild  fires  which  often  swept  over  the 
hills.  And  between  the  wood  and  the  wold  stood 
many  a  Danish  "town,"  with  its  clusters  of  low 
straggling  buildings  round  the  holder's  house,  of 
stone  or  mud  below,  and  of  wood  above ;  its  high 
dykes  round  tiny  fields  ;  its  flocks  of  sheep  ranging  on 
the  wold  ;  its  herds  of  swine  in  the  forest ;  and  below, 
a  more  precious  possession  still,  its  herds  of  mares 
and  colts,  which  fed  with  the  cattle  and  the  geese  in 
the  rich  grass-fen. 

For  always,  from  the  foot  of  the  wolds,  the  green 
fKt  stretched  away,  illimitable,  to  an  horizon  where, 
irom  the  roundness  of  the  earth,  the  distant  trees 
and  islands  were  hulled  down  like  ships  at  sea. 
The  firm  horse-fen  lay,  bright  green,  along  the  foot 
of  the  wold  ;  beyond  it,  the  browner  peat,  or  deep 
fen  ;  and  among  that,  dark  velvet  alder  beds,  long 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  13 

lines  of  reed-rond,  emerald  in  spring,  and  golden 
under  the  autumn  sun;  shining  "eas,"  or  river- 
reaches  ;  broad  meres  dotted  with  a  million  fowl, 
while  the  cattle  waded  along  their  edges  after  the 
rich  sedge-grass,  or  wallowed  in  the  mire  through 
the  hot  summer's  day.  Here  and  there,  too,  upon 
the  far  horizon,  rose  a  tall  line  of  ashen  trees, 
marking  some  island  of  firm  rich  soil.  In  some  of 
them,  as  at  Ramsey  and  Crowland,  the  huge  ashes 
had  disappeared  before  the  axes  of  the  monks  ;  and 
a  minster  tower  rose  over  the  fen,  amid  orchards, 
gardens,  corn-fields,  pastures,  with  here  and  there  a 
tree  left  standing  for  shade.  "  Painted  with  flowers 
in  the  spring,"  with  "pleasant  shores  embosomed 
in  still  lakes,"  as  the  monk-chronicler  of  Ramsey 
has  it,  those  islands  seemed  to  such  as  the  monk 
terrestrial  paradises. 

Overhead  the  arch  of  heaven  spread  more  ample 
than  elsewhere,  as  over  the  open  sea ;  and  that 
vastness  gave,  and  still  gives,  such  cloudlands,  such 
sunrises,  such  sunsets,  as  can  be  seen  nowhere  else 
within  these  isles.  They  might  well  have  been  star 
worshippers,  those  Girvii,  had  their  sky  been  as  clear 
as  that  of  the  East :  but  they  were  like  to  have 
worshipped  the  clouds  rather  than  the  stars,  according 
to  the  too  universal  law,  that  mankind  worship  the 
powers  which  do  them  harm,  rather  than  the  powers 
which  do  them  good.  Their  priestly  teachers,  too, 
had  darkened  still  further  their  notion  of  the  world 
around,  as  accursed  by  sin,  and  swarming  with  evil 
spirits.  The  gods  and  fairies  of  their  old  mythology 
had  been  transformed  by  the  Church  into  fiends, 
alluring  or  loathsome,  but  all  alike  destructive  to 
man,  against  whom  the  soldier  of  God,  the  celibate 
monk,  fought  day  and  night  with  relics,  Agnus  Dei, 
and  sign  of  Holy  Cross. 

And  therefore  the  Danelagh  men,  who  feared  not 
mortal  sword  or  axe,  feared  witches,  ghosts,  Pucks, 


i4  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

Wills  o'  the  Wisp,  Werewolves,  spirits  of  the  wells 
and  of  the  trees,  and  all  dark,  capricious,  and  harm- 
ful beings  whom  their  fancy  conjured  up  out  of  the 
wild,  wet,  and  unwholesome  marshes,  or  the  dark 
wolf-haunted  woods.  For  that  fair  land,  like  all 
things  on  earth,  had  its  darker  aspect.  The  foul 
exhalations  of  autumn  called  up  fever  and  agfue, 
crippling  and  enervating,  and  tempting,  almost  com- 
pelling, to  that  wild  and  desperate  drinking  which 
was  the  Scandinavian's  special  sin.  Dark  and  sad 
were  those  short  autumn  days,  when  all  the  distances 
were  shut  off,  and  the  air  choked  with  foul  brown 
fog  and  drenching  rains  from  off  the  eastern  sea ; 
and  pleasant  the  bursting  forth  of  the  keen  north- 
east wind,  with  all  its  whirling  snow-storms.  For 
though  it  sent  men  hurrying  out  into  the  storm,  to 
drive  the  cattle  in  from  the  fen,  and  lift  the  sheep 
out  of  the  snow-wreaths,  and  now  and  then  never 
to  return,  lost  in  mist  and  mire,  in  ice  and  snow  ; — 
yet  all  knew  that  after  the  snow  would  come  the  keen 
frost  and  bright  sun  and  cloudless  blue  sky,  and 
the  fenman's  yearly  holiday,  when,  work  being 
impossible,  all  gave  themselves  up  to  play,  and 
swarmed  upon  the  ice  on  skates  and  sledges,  to  run 
races,  township  against  township,  or  visit  old  friends 
full  forty  miles  away ;  and  met  everywhere  faces  as 
bright  and  ruddy  as  their  own,  cheered  by  the  keen 
wine  of  that  dry  and  bracing  frost. 

Such  was  the  Fenland  ;  hard,  yet  cheerful ;  rearing 
a  race  of  hard  and  cheerful  men ;  showing  their 
power  in  old  times  in  valiant  fighting,  and  for  many 
a  century  since  in  that  valiant  industry  which  has 
drained  and  embanked  the  land  ot  the  Girvii,  till 
it  has  become  a  very  Garden  of  The  Lord.  And 
the  Highlander  who  may  look  from  the  promontory 
of  Peterborough,  the  "golden  borough"  of  old 
time ;  or  from  that  Witham  on  the  Hill,  which  once 
was  a  farm  of  Here  ward  the  Wake's;  or  from  the 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  15 

tower  of  Crowland,  while  he  and  Torfrida  s\eep  in 
the  ruined  nave  beneath ;  or  from  the  heights  of 
that  Isle  of  Ely  which  was  so  long  the  camp  of 
refuge  for  English  freedom  ;  over  the  labyrinth  of 
dykes  and  lodes,  the  squares  of  rich  corn  and 
verdure, — will  confess  that  the  Lowlands,  as  well 
as  the  Highlands,  can  at  times  breed  gallant  men. 

Most  gallant  of  them  all,  and  their  leader  »!  the 
fatal  struggle  against  William,  was  Hereward  the 
Wake,  Lord  of  Bourne,  and  ancestor  of  that  family 
of  Wake,  the  arms  of  whom  appear  on  the  title- 
page  of  this  book.  These,  of  course,  are  much 
later  than  the  time  of  Hereward.  Not  so,  probably, 
the  badge  of  the  "  Wake  Knot,"  in  which  (according 
to  tradition)  two  monks'  girdles  are  worked  into  the 
form  of  the  letter  W.  It,  and  the  motto  "Vigila 
et  ora, "  may  well  have  been  used  by  Hereward 
himself.  I  owe  them  (as  I  do  numberless  details 
and  corrections)  to  the  exceeding  courtesy  of  that 
excellent  antiquary,  the  Rev.  E.  Trollope,  of 
Leasingham,  in  those  parts. 

Hereward's  pedigree  is  a  matter  of  no  importance, 
save  to  a  few  antiquaries,  and  possibly  to  his 
descendants,  the  ancient  and  honourable  house  of 
the  Wakes.  But  as  I  have,  in  this  story,  followed 
facts  as  strictly  as  I  could,  altering  none  which  I 
found,  and  inventing  little  more  than  was  needed 
to  give  the  story  coherence,  or  to  illustrate  the 
manners  of  the  time,  I  owe  it  to  myself  to  give 
my  reason  for  believing  Hereward  to  have  been  the 
son  of  Earl  Leofric  and  Godiva,  a  belief  in  which 
I  am  supported,  as  far  as  I  know,  only  by  Sir 
Henry  Ellis  (Introduction  to  Domesday)  and  by 
Mr.  Thomas  Wright.  The  reasons  against  my  belief 
(well  known  to  antiquaries)  are  these — Richard  of 
Ely  calls  him  simply  the  son  of  Leofric,  Lord  of 
Brunne,  and  of  ^Ediva  ;  and  his  MS.  is  by  far  the 


16  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

most  important  document  relating  to  Hereward. 
But  he  says  that  the  older  MSS.  which  he  consulted 
were  so  ruined  by  damp,  and  torn,  that  "  vix  ex  eis 
principium  a  genitoribus  ejus  inceptum,  et  pauca 
interim  expressimus,  et  nomen  "  ;  in  fact  that  he  had 
much  difficulty  in  making  out  Hereward's  pedigree. 
He  says,  moreover,  as  to  Leofric  the  Mass  Priest's 
Anglo-Saxon  MSS.,  "In  quibus  (Anglicae  literae) 
vero  non  licet  non  satis  periti  aut  potius  exarare 
deleta  incognitarum  literarum,"  —  which  passage 
(whatever  may  have  been  the  word  now  wanting  to 
complete  it)  certainly  confesses  that  he  was  but  a 
poor  adept  at  deciphering  Anglo-Saxon  MSS.  He 
need  hardly  have  confessed  as  much ;  for  the  mis- 
spellings of  English  names  in  his  work  are  more 
gross  than  even  those  in  Domesday ;  and  it  is  not 
improbable  that  among  the  rest  he  may  have  rendered 
Godiva,  or  its  English  equivalent,  by  ALdiva.. 

That  he  should  have  been  ignorant  that  Leofric  was 
not  merely  Lord  of  Bourne,  but  Earl  of  Mercia,  will 
not  seem  surprising  to  those  who  know  how  utterly 
the  English  nobility  were  trampled  into  the  mud. 
To  the  Normans  they  were  barbarians  without  a 
name  or  a  race.  They  were  dead  and  gone,  too ; 
and  who  cared  for  the  pedigree  of  a  dead  man  whose 
lands  had  passed  to  another?  Thus  of  Marlesweyn 
nothing  is  known.  Of  Edric  the  Wild,  a  great 
chieftain  in  his  day,  all  but  nothing.  Gospatric's 
pedigree  has  been  saved,  in  part,  by  his  relationship 
to  Royalty,  both  Scotch  and  English ;  and  Siward 
Digre's,  like  that  of  Gyda,  his  kinswoman,  by  their 
relationship  with  the  kings  of  Denmark,  and  the 
Fairy  Bear.  But  Gyda's  husband,  the  great  Earl 
Godwin,  had  become  within  three  generations  a 
"herdsman's  son,"  and  even  Mr.  Freeman's  research 
and  judgment  cannot  decide  his  true  pedigree.  As 
for  Leofric,  we  know  that  he  was  son  (according  to 
Florence  of  Worcester)  of  Leofwin  the  Alderman, 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  17 

and  had  two  brothers,  one  Norman,  killed  by  Canute 
with  Edric  Streon  1017  (according  to  Ingulf)  ;  the 
other  Edric  Edwin,  killed  the  Welsh  1039.  But 
we  know  no  more. 

That  Ingulf  should  make  him  die  A.D.  1057  is  not 
strange,  in  spite  of  his  many  mistakes  ;  for  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  Chronicle  gives  the  same  date.  But  the  monk, 
who  probably  a  century  or  more  after  Ingulf,  interpo- 
lated from  Richard  of  Ely  the  passage  beginning, 
"At  this  time  a  nobleman,  the  Lord  of  Bourne,  etc." 
sub  anno  1062,  may  well  have  been  ignorant  that 
Leofric,  Lord  of  Bourne,  was  also  Earl  of  Mercia. 
But  what  need  to  argue  over  any  statement  of  the 
so-called  Ingulf,  or  rather  "  Ingulfic  Cycle"?  I  shall 
only  add  that  the  passage  sub  anno  1066,  beginning 
"  Herward,  who  has  been  previously  mentioned," 
seems  to  be  by  again  a  different  hand. 

Meanwhile  the  Excerftum  de  Familia  Herewardi 
calls  him  plainly  the  son  of  Leofric,  Earl  of  Mercia, 
and  the  Lady  Godiva ;  giving  to  her  the  same 
genealogy  as  is  given  by  Richard  of  Ely  to  JEdiva.. 

This  account  of  Hereward's  family  is  taken  from  a 
document  of  no  greater  antiquity  than  the  fifteenth 
century,  a  genealogical  roll  of  the  Lords  of  Bourne  and 
Deeping,  who  traced  their  descent  and  title  to  the  lands 
from  Hereward's  daughter  :  but  it  was  no  doubt  taken 
either  from  previously  existing  records,  or  from  the  old 
tradition  of  the  family  ;  and,  with  no  authority  for 
contradicting  it,  and  considering  its  general  agreement 
with  the  other  evidence,  it  is  plain  that  Leofric  of 
Bourne  was  generally  understood  to  be  the  great  Earl 
of  Mercia  of  that  name. 

But  the  strongest  evidence  of  the  identity  between 
Leofric  of  Bourne,  and  Leofric,  Earl  of  Mercia,  is  to  be 
found  in  Domesday  Book. 

The  Lord  of  Bourne  at  the  time  of  the  Conquest,  as 
is  proved  by  the  Clamores  de  Kesteven^  was  Morcar, 
Leofric  of  Mercia's  grandson.  This  one  fact  is  all  but 


i8  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

conclusive,  unless  we  suppose  that  Leofric  of  Bourne 
had  been  dispossessed  of  his  "  dominium  "  by  Morcar, 
or  by  Earl  Algar  his  father,  or,  again,  by  Earl  Leofric 
his  grandfather.  But  such  an  hypothesis  accords  ill 
with  the  amity  between  Morcar  and  Hereward  ;  and  it 
is  all  but  impossible  that,  if  Hereward's  family  was 
then  dispossessed,  the  fact  should  not  appear  in  any  of 
his  biographies. 

But  Domesday  Book  gives  no  hint  of  any  large 
land-holders  in  or  near  Bourne,  save  Morcar,  Lord 
thereof,  whose  name  still  lingers  in  the  "  Morkery 
Woods,"  a  few  miles  off;  Edwin  his  brother;  and 
Algar,  his  father,  son  of  Earl  Leofric  and  Godiva.  The 
famous  Godiva,  also,  was  probably  a  Lincolnshire 
woman,  though  the  manors  which  she  held  in  her 
widowhood  were  principally  in  Shropshire.  The 
domains  ot  her  ancestor,  "the  magnificent  Earl 
Oslac,"  who  lived  in  the  days  of  King  Edgar,  were 
Deira,  i.e.  Danish  Northumbria,  from  Humber  to 
Tees  ;  and  he  may  have  sprung  from  (as  his  name 
hints)  the  ancient  kings  of  Deira.  But  charters  (as 
far  as  we  can  trust  them)  connect  him  both  with 
Peterborough  and  Crowland ;  and  his  descendant 
was  Thorold  of  Bukenhale  near  Crowland,  sheriff 
of  Lincoln,  from  whom  the  ancient  Thorolds  of  those 
parts  claim  descent ;  and  this  Thorold  appears,  in  a 
charter  of  1061,  attested  by  Leofric  and  Godiva,  as 
giving  the  cell  of  Spalding  to  Crowland.  The  same 
charter  describes  the  manor  of  Spalding  as  belong- 
ing to  Earl  Leofric.  His  son,  Algar,  whose  name 
remains  in  Algarkirk,*  appears  as  a  benefactor  to 

'  The  first  Earl  "  Algar,"  who  signs  a  charter  in  the  days  of  Beorrhed,  king 
of  the  Mercians,  and  who  does  doughty  deeds  about  A.D.  870,  is,  to  me,  as 
mythical  as  the  first  "  Morcard,  Lord  o'f  Brune,"  who  accompanies  him ;  the 
first  Thorold  of  Bukenhale,  who  gave  that  place  to  Crowland  about  A.D.  806, 
and  the  first  Leofric,  or  "Levric,"  Earl  of  Leicester  («.«.  Mercia),  who  helps  to 
found  in  Crowland,  A.D.  716,  a  "  monastery  of  black  Monks."  The  Monks  of 
Crowland  were,  perhaps,  trying  to  work  on  Hugh  Evermue,  Hereward's  son- 
in-law,  or  Richard  of  Rulos,  his  grand-son-in-law,  as  they  were  trying  to  work 
on  the  Norman  kings,  when  they  invented  these  charters  of  the  eighth  and 
ninth  centuries,  with  names  of  Saxon  king's,  and  nobles  of  Leofric  and  Godiva's 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  19 

Crowland.  And,  in  fine,  the  great  folk  of  Bourno,  as 
well  as  Spalding,  were  without  doubt  the  family  of 
Leofric,  Earl  of  Mercia  and  Chester,  and  of  the  Lady 
Godiva ;  the  parents,  as  I  conceive,  of  Hereward. 
He  would  thus,  on  the  death  of  Morkar,  son  of  his 
elder  brother  Algar,  take  possession  by  natural  right 
of  the  Lordship  of  Bourne,  and  keep  up  a  special 
enmity  against  Ivo  Taillebois,  who  had  taken  Spalding 
from  his  patrimony. 

Lastly,  it  is  difficult  to  me  to  suppose  that  Here- 
ward  would  have  been  allowed  to  take  the  undisputed 
command  of  a  rebellion  so  aristocratic  as  that  of  the 
Fens,  over  the  heads  of  three  earls,  Morcar  among 
them,  had  he  not  possessed  some  such  natural  right 
of  birth  as  an  earl's  son,  and,  probably,  like  most 
great  English  earls'  families,  of  ancient  royal,  and 
therefore  God-descended,  blood. 

On  the  supposition,  too,  that  he  was  the  last  remain- 
ing heir  of  the  Earls  of  Mercia,  may  be  explained 
William's  strong  desire  to  spare  his  life  and  receive 
his  homage ;  as  an  atonement  for  his  conduct  to 
Edwin  and  Morcar,  and  a  last  effort  to  attach  to 
himself  the  ancient  English  nobility.  But  of  this 
enough,  and  more  than  enough  ;  and  so  to  my  story. 

house;  or,  again,  the  land  being-  notoriously  given  to  Crowland  by  men  of 
certain  names,  who  were  then  of  no  authority  as  rebels  and  dispossessed,  it 
was  necessary  to  invent  men  of  like  names,  who  were  safely  entrenched  behind 
Saxon  antiquity  with  the  ancestors  of  Edward  the  Confessor.  But  in  their 
clumsiness  they  seem  to  have  mingled  with  them  in  the  said  charters  and  their 
mythic  battles  against  the  Danes,  purely  Danish  names,  such  as  Siwarci, 
Asketyl,  Azer,  Harding,  Grimketyl,  Wultketyl,  etc.,  which  surely  prove  the 
fraud.  Meanwhile,  the  very  names  of  Levric,  Algar,  Morcar,  Thorold,  genuine 
or  not,  seem  to  prove  that  the  houses  of  Leofric  and  Godiva  were  ancient  rulers 
in  these  parts,  whose  phantoms  had  to.  be  evoked  when  needed. 


20  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

CHAPTER   I. 

HOW   HEREWARD   WAS   OUTLAWED,    AND   WENT   NORTH 
TO   SEEK   HIS   FORTUNES. 

IN  Kesteven  of  Lincolnshire,  between  the  forest  and 
the  fen,  lies  the  good  market-town  of  Bourne,  the 
birthplace,  according  to  all  tradition,  of  two  great 
Englishmen ;  of  Cecil  Lord  Burleigh,  justly  re- 
membered throughout  all  time,  and  of  Hereward  the 
Wake,  not  unjustly,  perhaps,  long  forgotten.  Two 
long  streets  meet  opposite  the  house  where  Burleigh 
was  born,  one  from  Spalding  and  the  eastern  fens, 
the  other  from  the  forest,  and  the  line  of  the  old 
Roman  road  on  the  north.  From  thence  the  Water- 
gang  Street  leads,  by  the  side  of  clear  running  streams, 
to  the  old  Priory  church,  and  the  great  labyrinth  of 
grass-grown  banks,  which  was  once  the  castle  of  the 
Wakes.  Originally,  it  may  be,  those  earthworks  were 
a  Roman  camp,  guarding  the  King  Street,  or  Roman 
road,  which  splits  off  from  the  Ermine  Street  near 
Castor,  and  runs  due  north  through  Bourne  to  Sleaford. 
They  may  have  guarded,  too,  the  Car-dyke,  or  great 
Catch  water  drain,  which  runs  from  Peterborough 
northward  into  the  heart  of  Lincolnshire,  a  still-en- 
during monument  of  Roman  genius.  Their  site,  not 
on  one  of  the  hills  behind,  but  on  the  dead  flat  meadow, 
was  determined  doubtless  by  the  noble  fountain,  bourn, 
or  brunne,  which  rises  among  the  earthworks,  and 
gives  its  name  to  the  whole  town.  In  the  flat  meadow 
bubbles  up  still  the  great  pool  of  limestone  water, 
crystal  clear,  suddenly  and  at  once  ;  and  runs  away, 
winter  and  summer,  a  stream  large  enough  to  turn 
many  a  mill,  and  spread  perpetual  verdure  through 
the  fat  champaign  lands. 

The   fountain   was,   doubtless,  in  the  middle   age, 
miraculous  and  haunted  :  perhaps,  in  heathen  times, 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  21 

divine  and  consecrate.  Even  till  a  late  date,  the 
millers  of  Bourne  paid  water-dues  to  those  of  a  village 
some  miles  away  ;  on  the  strength  of  the  undoubted 
fact,  that  a  duck  put  into  Bourne  Pool  would  pass 
underground  into  the  millhead  of  the  said  village 
Doubtless  it  was  a  holy  well,  such  as  were  common 
in  the  eastern  counties,  as  they  are  still  in  Ireland  ; 
a  well  where  rags,  flowers,  and  other  gew-gaws  might 
have  been  seen  hanging,  offerings  to  the  spirit  of 
the  well,  whether  one  of  those  "nickers,"  "develen," 
or  "  luther-gostes,"  which  St.  Botulf  met  when  he 
founded  Boston  near  by,  or  one  of  those  "  fair  ladies," 
"elves,"  or  water-nymphs,  who,  exorcised  from  the 
North,  still  linger  in  the  fountains  of  modern  Greece. 
Exorcised,  certainly,  the  fairy  of  Bourne  was  at  an 
early  date  ;  for  before  the  Conquest  the  Peterborough 
monks  had  founded  a  cell  outside  the  castle  ditch,  and, 
calling  in  the  aid  of  the  Chief  of  the  Apostles  against 
those  spirits  of  darkness  who  peopled,  innumerable, 
earth,  air,  water,  and  fen,  had  rechristened  it  as 
"  Peterspool,"  which  name  it  bears  unto  this  day. 

Military  skill  has,  evidently,  utilised  the  waters  of 
the  Peterspool  from  the  earliest  times.  They  filled,  at 
some  remote  period,  the  dykes  at  a  great  earthwork 
to  the  north,  which  has  been  overlooked  by  Anti- 
quaries, because  it  did  not  (seemingly)  form  part  of 
the  enceinte  of  the  mediaeval  castle  of  the  Wakes.  It 
still  fills  the  dykes  of  that  castle,  whereof  nothing 
remains  now  save  banks  of  turf,  and  one  great 
artificial  barrow,  on  which  stood  the  keep,  even  in 
Leland's  time,  it  would  seem,  somewhat  dilapidate. 
"There  appear,"  he  says,  "  grete  ditches,  and  the 
dungeon  hill  of  an  ancient  castle  agayn  the  west  end  of 
the  Priory.  ...  It  longgid  to  the  Lord  Wake  ;  and 
much  service  of  the  Wake  fee  is  done  to  this  Castelle, 
and  every  feodary  knoweth  his  station  and  place  of 
service." 

Of  the  stonework  nothing  now  remains.     The  square 


22  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

dung-eon,  "  a  fayre  and  prettie  building,  with  iv.  square 
towers  .  .  .  hall,  chambers,  all  manner  of  houses  and 
offices  for  the  lord  and  his  train,"  l  and  so  forth,  is 
utterly  gone.  The  gate-house,  thirty  feet  high,  with 
its  circular  Saxon  (probably  Norman)  arch,  has  been 
pulled  down  by  the  Lords  of  Burleigh,  to  build  a  farm- 
house ;  the  fair  park  is  divided  into  fair  meadows  ;  and 
a  large  part  of  the  town  of  Bourne  is,  probably,  built 
of  the  materials  of  the  Wakes'  castle,  and  the  Priory, 
which  arose  under  its  protection.  Those  Priory  lands 
passed  into  the  hands  of  Trollopes  and  Pochins,  as  did 
the  lands  of  the  castle  into  those  of  the  Cecils  ;  and  of 
that  fee  of  the  Wakes,  all,  as  far  as  I  know,  is  lost, 
fors  Fhonneur,  which  shone  out  of  late  in  that  hero  of 
"Arrah,"  who  proved,  by  his  valour,  pertinacity, 
and  shiftfulness,  not  unworthy  of  his  great  ancestor 
Hereward.  Verily  the  good  old  blood  of  England  is 
not  yet  worn  out. 

A  pleasant  place,  and  a  rich,  is  Bourne  now  ;  and  a 
pleasant  place  and  rich  must  it  have  been  in  the  old 
Anglo-Danish  times,  when  the  hall  of  Leofric,  the 
great  Earl  of  Mercia,  stood  where  the  Wakes'  feudal 
castle  stood  in  after  years.  To  the  south  and  west 
stretched,  as  now,  the  illimitable  flat  of  fen,  with  the 
spires  of  Crowland  gleaming  bright  between  high 
trees  upon  the  southern  horizon  ;  and  to  the  north, 
from  the  very  edge  of  the  town  fields,  rose  the  great 
Bruneswald,  the  forest  of  oak,  and  ash,  and  elm, 
which  still  covers  many  miles  of  Lincolnshire,  as 
Bourne  Wood,  Grimsthorpe  Park,  and  parks  and 
woodlands  without  number.  To  the  south-west  it 
joined  the  great  forest  of  Rockingham,  in  North- 
amptonshire. To  the  west,  it  all  but  marched  with 
Charnwood  Forest  in  Leicestershire,  and  to  the 
north-west,  with  the  great  Sherwood,  which  covered 
Nottinghamshire,  and  reached  over  the  borders  of 
Yorkshire.  Mighty  fowling  and  fishing  was  there  in 

1  Peak's  account  of  the  towns  in  Kesteven. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  23 

the  fen  below,  and  mighty  hunting-  on  the  weald  above, 
where  still  haunt,  in  Grimsthorpe  Park,  the  primeval 
red-deer,  descendants  of  those  who  fell  by  Hereward's 
bow,  ere  yet  the  first  Lovell  had  built  his  castle  on  the 
steep,  or  the  Cistercian  monks  of  Fountains  had  found 
out  the  deep  -  embowered  Vale  of  God,  and  settled 
themselves  in  the  glen  beneath  the  castle  walls. 

It  is  of  those  earlier  days  that  this  story  tells  ;  of  the 
latter  half  of  the  eleventh  century,  and  the  eve  of  the 
Norman  Conquest,  when  Leofric  the  Earl  had  the 
dominion  in  forest  and  manorial  rights,  in  wood,  and 
town,  and  fen  ;  and  beside  him,  upon  the  rich  strip  of 
champaign,  other  free  Danish  holders,  whose  names 
may  be  still  found  in  Domesday  Book,  held  small 
estates  ;  and  owed,  probably,  some  military  service  to 
the  great  Earl  at  the  hall  within  the  Roman  earthwork. 

The  house  of  Bourne,  as  far  as  it  can  be  recon- 
structed by  imagination,  was  altogether  unlike  one  of 
the  tall  and  gloomy  Norman  castles  which,  in  the 
course  of  the  next  few  generations,  must  have  taken 
its  place.  It  was  much  more  like  a  house  in  a  Chinese 
painting :  an  irregular  group  of  low  buildings,  almost 
all  of  one  story,  stone  below  and  timber  above,  with 
high-peaked  roofs — at  least  in  the  more  Danish  country 
— affording  a  separate  room,  or  rather  house,  for  each 
different  need  of  the  family.  Such  a  one  may  be  seen 
in  the  illuminations  of  the  century.  In  the  centre  of 
the  building  is  the  hall,  with  a  door  or  doors  opening 
out  into  the  court ;  and  sitting  thereat  at  the  top  of  a 
flight  of  steps,  the  lord  and  lady,  dealing  clothes  to  the 
naked  and  bread  to  the  hungry.  Behind  the  hall  is  a 
round  tower,  seemingly  the  strong  place  of  the  whole 
house.  It  must  have  stood  at  Bourne  upon  the 
dungeon  hill.  On  one  side  of  the  hall  is  a  chapel ;  by 
it  a  large  room  or  bower  for  the  ladies  ;  on  the  other 
side  a  kitchen  ;  and  stuck  on  to  bower,  kitchen,  and 
every  other  principal  building,  lean-to  after  lean-to,  the 
uses  of  which  it  is  impossible  now  to  discover.  The 


24  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

house  had  grown  with  the  wants  of  the  family — as 
many  good  old  English  houses  have  done  to  this  day. 
Round  it  would  be  scattered  barns  and  stables,  in 
which  grooms  and  herdsmen  slept  side  by  side  with 
their  own  horses  and  cattle  ;  beyond,  the  yard,  garth, 
or  garden-fence,  high  earth-banks  with  palisades  on 
top,  while  the  waters  of  the  Peterspool  wandered 
around  outside  all.  Such  was  most  probably  the 
"villa,"  "ton,"  or  "town,"  of  Earl  Leofric,  the 
Lord  of  Bourne ;  such  too,  probably,  the  hall  at 
Laughton-en-le-Morthem  in  Yorkshire,  which  belonged 
to  his  grandson  Edwin,  and  therefore,  probably,  to 
him.  Leofric's  other  residence,  the  Castle  of  Warwick, 
was  already,  it  may  be,  a  building  of  a  more  solid  and 
Norman  type,  such  as  had  been  built  already,  here 
and  there,  for  Edward  the  Confessor's  French 
courtiers,  by  the  hands  of  "  Welisce  men,"  i.e.  French- 
speaking  foreigners.1 

Known,  I  presume,  to  all  is  Lady  Godiva,  mistress 
of  Bourne,  the  most  beautiful  as  well  as  the  most 
saintly  woman  of  her  day ;  who,  all  her  life,  kept  at 
her  own  expense  thirteen  poor  folk  wherever  she 
went ;  who,  throughout  Lent,  watched  in  the  church 
at  triple  matins,  namely,  one  for  the  Trinity,  one  for 
the  Cross,  and  one  for  St.  Mary  ;  who  every  day  read 
the  Psalter  through,  and  so  persevered  in  good  and 
holy  works  to  her  life's  end,  the  devoted  friend  of 
St.  Mary,  ever  a  virgin ;  who  enriched  monasteries 
without  number — Leominster,  Wenlock,  Chester,  St. 
Mary's  Stow  by  Lincoln,  Worcester,  Evesham ;  and 
who,  above  all,  founded  the  great  monastery  in  that 
town  of  Coventry,  which  has  made  her  name  immortal 
for  another  and  a  far  nobler  deed  ;  and  enriched  it  so 
much,  that  no  monastery  in  England  possessed  such 
abundance  of  gold,  silver,  jewels,  and  precious  stones, 

»  One  such  had  certainly  been  built  in  Herefordshire.  I^appenberg  attributes 
it,  with  great  probability,  to  Raoul,  or  Ralph  the  Staller,  nephew  of  Edward 
the  Confessor,  and  a  near  relation  of  I^ofric. 


HEREWARD    THE    WAKE.  25 

besides  that  most  precious  jewel  of  all,  the  arm  of 
St.  Augustine,  which  not  Lady  Godiva,  but  her  friend 
Archbishop  Ethelnoth,  presented  to  Coventry  ;  having 
bought  it  at  Pavia  for  a  hundred  talents  of  silver  and 
a  talent  of  gold.1 

Less  known,  save  to  students,  is  her  husband 
Leofric,  whose  bones  lie  by  those  of  Godiva  in  that 
same  minster  of  Coventry  ;  how  "his  counsel  was  as 
if  one  had  opened  the  Divine  oracles"  ;  very  "wise," 
says  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle,  "for  God  and  for 
the  world,  which  was  a  blessing  to  all  this  nation  "  ;  the 
greatest  man,  as  I  have  said,  in  Edward  the  Confessor's 
court,  save  his  still  greater  rival,  Earl  Godwin. 

Less  known,  again,  are  the  children  of  that 
illustrious  pair  ;  Algar,  or  Alfgar,  Earl  of  Mercia  after 
his  father,  who  died  after  a  short  and  stormy  life, 
leaving  two  sons,  Edwin  and  Morcar,  the  fair  and 
hapless  young  earls,  always  spoken  of  together,  as  if 
they  had  been  twins  ;  a  daughter,  Aldytha,  or  Elfgiva, 
married  first  (according  to  some)  to  Griffin,  King  of 
North  Wales,  and  certainly  afterwards  to  Harold, 
King  of  England ;  and  another,  Lucia  (as  the  Normans 
at  least  called  her),  whose  fate  was,  if  possible,  more 
sad  than  that  of  her  brothers. 

Their  second  son  was  Hereward,  whose  history  this 
tale  sets  forth  ;  their  third  and  youngest,  a  boy  whose 
name  is  unknown. 

They  had,  probably,  another  daughter  beside ; 
married,  it  may  be,  to  some  son  of  Leofric's  staunch 
friend  old  Siward  Digre ;  and  the  mother,  may  be,  of 
the  two  young  Siwards,  the  "white"  and  the  "red," 
who  figure  in  chronicle  and  legend  as  the  nephews  of 
Hereward.  But  this  last  pedigree  is  little  more  than 
a  conjecture. 

Be  these  things  as  they  may,  Godiva  was  the 
greatest  lady  in  England,  save  two  :  Edith,  Harold's 
sister,  the  nominal  wife  of  Edward  the  Confessor  ;  and 

1  William  of  Malmesbury. 


26  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Githa,  or  Gyda,  as  her  own  Danes  called  her,  Harold's 
mother,  niece  of  Canute  the  Great.  Great  was 
Godiva  ;  and  might  have  been  proud  enough,  had  she 
been  inclined  to  that  pleasant  sin.  But  always  (for 
there  is  a  skeleton,  they  say,  in  every  house)  she 
carried  that  about  her  which  might  well  keep  her 
humble ;  namely,  shame  at  the  misconduct  of  Here- 
ward,  her  son. 

Now  on  a  day — about  the  year  1054 — while  Earl 
Siward  was  helping  to  bring  Birnam  wood  to 
Dunsinane,  to  avenge  his  murdered  brother-in-law, 
Lady  Godiva  sat,  not  at  her  hall  door,  dealing  food 
and  clothing  to  her  thirteen  poor  folk,  but  in  her 
bower,  with  her  youngest  son,  a  two-years'  boy,  at 
her  knee.  She  was  listening  with  a  face  of  shame 
and  horror  to  the  complaint  of  Herluin,  Steward  of 
Peterborough,  who  had  fallen  in  that  afternoon  with 
Hereward  and  his  crew  of  housecarles. 

To  keep  a  following  of  stout  housecarles,  or  men- 
at-arms,  was  the  pride  as  well  as  the  duty  of  an 
Anglo-Danish  Lord,  as  it  was,  till  lately,  of  a  Scoto- 
Danish  Highland  Laird.  And  Hereward,  in  imitation 
of  his  father  and  his  elder  brother,  must  needs  have 
his  following  from  the  time  he  was  but  fifteen  years 
old.  ,A11  the  unruly  youths  of  the  neighbourhood, 
sons  of  ^free  ."Holders,"  who  owed  some  sort  of 
military  service  to  Earl  Leofric ;  Geri,  Hereward's 
cousin  ;  Winter,  whom  he  called  his  brother-in-arms  ; 
the  Wulfrics,  the  Wulfards,  the  Azers,  and  many 
another  wild  blade,  had  banded  themselves  round  a 
young  nobleman  more  unruly  than  themselves.  Their 
names  were  already  a  terror  to  all  decent  folk,  at 
wakes  and  fairs,  alehouses  and  village  sports.  They 
atoned,  be  it  remembered,  for  their  early  sins,  by 
making  those  names  in  after  years  a  terror  to  the 
invaders  of  their  native  land  :  but  as  yet  their  prowess 
was  limited  to  drunken  brawls  and  faction-fights  ;  to 
upsetting  old  women  at  their  work,  levying  blackmail 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  27 

from  quiet  chapmen  on  the  high-road,  or  bringing 
back  in  triumph,  sword  in  hand  and  club  on  shoulder, 
their  leader  Hereward  from  some  duel  which  his 
insolence  had  provoked. 

But  this  time,  if  the  story  of  the  steward  was  to  be 
believed,  Hereward  and  his  housecarles  had  taken  an 
ugly  stride  forward  toward  the  pit.  They  had  met 
him  riding  along,  intent  upon  his  psalter,  home 
towards  his  abbey  from  its  cell  at  Bourne — "  Whereon 
your  son,  most  gracious  lady,  bade  me  stand,  saying 
that  his  men  were  thirsty ;  and  he  had  no  money  to 
buy  ale  withal,  and  none  so  likely  to  help  him  thereto 
as  a  fat  priest — for  so  he  scandalously  termed  me, 
who,  as  your  ladyship  knows,  am  leaner  than  the 
minster  bell -ropes,  with  fasting  Wednesdays  and 
Fridays  throughout  the  year,  beside  the  vigils  of  the 
saints,  and  the  former  and  latter  Lents. 

"But  when  he  saw  who  I  was,  as  if  inspired  by  a 
malignant  spirit,  he  shouted  out  my  name,  and  bade 
his  companions  throw  me  to  the  ground." 

"Throw  you  to  the  ground?"  shuddered  the  Lady 
Godiva. 

"  In  much  mire,  madam.  After  which  he  took  my 
palfrey,  saying  that  heaven's  gate  was  too  lowly  for 
men  on  horseback  to  get  in  thereat ;  and  then  my 
marten's  fur  gloves  and  cape  wMch  your  gracious  self 
bestowed  on  me,  alleging  that  the  rules  of  my  order 
allowed  only  one  garment,  and  no  furs  save  catskins 
and  such-like.  And  lastly — I  tremble  while  I  relate, 
thinking  not  of  the  loss  of  my  poor  money,  but  the 
loss  of  an  immortal  soul — took  from  me  a  purse  with 
sixteen  silver  pennies,  which  I  had  collected  from  our 
tenants  for  the  use  of  the  monastery,  and  said 
blasphemously  that  I  and  mine  had  cheated  your 
ladyship,  and  therefore  him  your  son,  out  of  many  a 
fat  manor  ere  now ;  and  it  was  but  fair  that  he  should 
tithe  the  rents  thereof,  as  he  should  never  get  the 
lands  out  of  our  claws  again  ;  with  more  of  the  like, 


28  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

which  I  blush  to  repeat — And  so  left  me  to  trudge 
hither  in  the  mire." 

"Wretched  boy!"  said  the  Lady  Godiva,  and  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands;  "and  more  wretched  I,  to 
have  brought  such  a  son  into  the  world  !  " 

The  monk  had  hardly  finished  his  doleful  story, 
when  there  was  a  pattering-  of  heavy  feet,  a  noise  of 
men  shouting  and  laughing  outside,  and  a  voice 
above  all  calling  for  the  monk  by  name,  which  made 
that  good  man  crouch  behind  the  curtain  of  Lady 
Godiva's  bed.  The  next  moment  the  door  of  the 
bower  was  thrown  violently  open,  and  in  swaggered  a 
noble  lad  eighteen  years  old.  His  face  was  of  extra- 
ordinary beauty,  save  that  the  lower  jaw  was  too  long 
and  heavy,  and  that  his  eyes  wore  a  strange  and 
almost  sinister  expression,  from  the  fact  that  the  one 
of  them  was  gray,  and  the  other  blue.  He  was 
short,  but  of  immense  breadth  of  chest  and  strength 
of  limb ;  while  his  delicate  hands  and  feet  and  long 
locks  of  golden  hair  marked  him  of  most  noble,  and 
even,  as  he  really  was,  of  ancient  royal  race.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  gaudy  costume,  resembling  on  the  whole 
that  of  a  Highland  chieftain.  His  wrists  and  throat 
were  tattooed  in  blue  patterns  ; *  and  he  carried  sword 
and  dagger,  a  gold  ring  round  his  neck,2  and  gold 
rings  on  his  wrists.  He  was  a  lad  to  have  gladdened 
the  eyes  of  any  mother  :  but  there  was  no  gladness  in 
the  Lady  Godiva's  eyes  as  she  received  him,  nor  had 

1  Some  antiquaries  have  denied,  on  the  ground  of  insufficient  evidence,  that 
the  English  tattooed  themselves.  Others  have  referred  to  some  such  custom 
the  secret  marks  by  which  heroes  are  so  often  recognised  in  old  romances,  as 
well  as  those  by  which  Edith  the  Swan-neck  is  said  to  have  recognised  Harold's 
body  on  the  field  of  Hastings.  Hereward  is,  likewise,  recognised  by  "signis 
satis  exquisitis  in  corpore  designantia  vulnera  tenuissimorum  cicatncum."  I 
am  not  answerable  for  the  Latin  ;  but  as  I  understand  it,  it  refers  not  to  war- 
wounds  but  to  very  delicate  marks.  Moreover,  William  of  Malmesbury,  sub 
anno  1066,  seems  sufficiently  explicit  when  he  says  that  the  English  "adorned 
their  skins  with  punctured  designs." 

May  not  our  sailors'  fashion  of  tattooing  their  arms  and  chests  with  strange 
devices  be  a  remnant  of  this  very  fashion,  kept  up,  if  not  originated  by,  the 
desire  that  the  corpse  should  be  recognised  after  death  ? 

*  Earl  Waltheof  appears  to  Ingulf  in  a  dream  a  few  years  after,  with  a 
ore  round  his  neck. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  29 

there  been  for  many  a  year.  She  looked  on  him  with 
sternness,  with  all  but  horror  :  and  he,  his  face  flushed 
with  wine,  which  he  had  tossed  off  as  he  passed 
through  the  hall  to  steady  his  nerves  for  the  coming 
storm,  looked  at  her  with  smiling-  defiance,  the  result 
of  long  estrangement  between  mother  and  son. 

"Well,  my  lady,"  said  he,  ere  she  could  speak, 
"I  heard  that  this  good  fellow  was  here;  and  came 
home  as  fast  as  I  could,  to  see  that  he  told  you  as 
few  lies  as  possible." 

"He  has  told  me,"  said  she,  "  that  you  have  robbed 
the  Church  of  God." 

"  Robbed  him,  it  may  be,  an  old  hoody  crow,  against 
whom  I  have  a  grudge  often  years'  standing." 

' '  Wretched,  wretched  boy  !  What  wickedness 
next  ?  Know  you  not,  that  he  who  robs  the  Church 
robs  God  Himself?" 

"  If  a  man  sin  against  another,"  put  in  the  monk 
from  behind  the  curtain,  "  the  judge  shall  judge  him  : 
but  if  a  man  sin  against  the  Lord,  who  shall  entreat 
for  him  ?  " 

"Who  indeed?"  cried  Lady  Godiva.  "Think, 
think,  hapless  boy,  what  it  is  to  go  about  the  world 
henceforth  with  the  wrath  of  Him  who  made  it  abiding 
on  you — cut  off  from  the  protection  of  all  angels,  open 
to  the  assaults  of  all  devils  ?  How  will  your  life  be 
safe  a  moment,  from  lightning,  from  flood,  from 
slipping  knife,  from  stumbling  horse,  from  some 
hidden  and  hideous  death?  If  the  fen-fiends  lure 
you  away  to  drown  you  in  the  river,  or  the  wood- 
fiends  leap  on  you  in  the  thicket  to  wring  your  neck, 
of  what  use  to  you  then  the  suffrages  of  the  saints, 
or  the  sign  of  the  holy  cross  ?  What  help,  what 
hope,  for  you — for  me — but  that  you  must  perish 
foully,  and,  it  may  be,  never  find  a  grave  ?  " 

Lady  Godiva — as  the  constant  associate  of  clerks 
and  monks — spoke  after  an  artificial  and  latinised 
fashion,  at  which  Hereward  was  not  wont  to  laugh 


3o  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

and  jest :  but  as  he  believed,  no  less  than  his  pious 
mother,  in  innumerable  devils  and  ghosts,  and  other 
uncanny  creatures,  who  would  surely  do  him  a  mischief 
if  they  could,  he  began  to  feel  somewhat  frightened; 
but  he  answered  none  the  less  stoutly  : 

"  As  for  devils,  and  such-like,  I  never  saw  one  yet, 
by  flood  or  field,  night  or  day.  And  if  one  comes, 
I  must  just  copy  old  Baldwin  Bras-de-Fer  of  Flanders, 
and  see  whether  the  devil  or  I  can  hit  hardest.  As 
for  the  money — I  have  no  grudge  against  St.  Peter; 
and  I  will  warrant  myself  to  rob  some  one  else  of 
sixteen  pennies  ere  long,  and  pay  the  saint  back  every 
farthing." 

"  The  saint  takes  not  the  fruits  of  robbery.  He 
would  hurl  them  far  away,  by  might  divine,  were  they 
laid  upon  his  altar,"  quoth  the  Steward. 

"  I  wonder  he  has  not  hurled  thee  away  long  ago, 
then,  with  thy  gifts  about  thine  ears;  for  thou  hast 
brought  many  a  bag  of  grist  to  his  mill,  ere  now, 
that  was  as  foully  earned  as  aught  of  mine.  I  tell 
thee,  man,  if  thou  art  wise,  thou  wilt  hold  thy  tongue, 
and  let  me  and  St.  Peter  settle  this  quarrel  between 
us.  I  have  a  long  score  against  thee,  as  thou  knowest, 
which  a  gentle  battery  in  the  greenwood  has  but  half 
paid  off;  and  I  warn  thee  not  to  make  it  longer  by 
thy  tongue,  lest  I  shorten  the  said  tongue  for  thee 
with  cold  steel." 

"  What  does  he  mean?  "  asked  Godiva,  shuddering. 

"  This  !  "  quoth  Hereward,  fiercely  enough;  "  That 
this  monk  forgets  that  I  have  been  a  monk  myself, 
or  should  have  been  one  by  now,  if  you,  my  pious 
mother,  had  had  your  will  of  me,  as  you  may  if 
you  like  of  that  baby  there  at  your  knee.  He  forgets 
why  I  left  Peterborough  Abbey,  when  Winter  and 
I  turned  all  the  priest's  books  upside  down  in  the 
choir,  and  they  would  have  flogged  us— me,  the  Earl's 
son — me,  the  Viking's  son — me,  the  champion  as  I 
will  be  yet,  and  make  all  lands  ring  with  the  fame 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  31 

of  my  deeds,  as  they  rang  with  the  fame  of  my  fore- 
fathers, before  they  became  the  slaves  of  monks  ;  and 
how,  when  Winter  and  I  got  hold  of  the  kitchen  spits, 
and  up  to  the  top  of  the  peat-stack  by  Bolldyke-gate, 
and  held  them  all  at  bay  there,  a  whole  abbeyful  of 
cowards  there  against  two  seven-years'  children, — it 
was  that  weasel  there  bade  set  the  peat-stack  alight 
under  us,  and  so  bring  us  down ;  and  would  have 
done  it,  too,  had  it  not  been  for  my  uncle  Brand,  the 
only  man  that  I  care  for  in  this  wide  world.  Do  you 
think  I  have  not  owed  you  a  grudge  ever  since  that 
day,  monk  ?  And  do  you  think  I  will  not  pay  it  ?  Do 
you  think  I  would  not  have  burned  Peterborough 
Minster  over  your  head  before  now,  had  it  not  been 
for  uncle  Brand's  sake  ?  See  that  I  do  not  do  it  yet. 
See  that  when  there  is  another  Prior  in  Borough  you 
do  not  find  Hereward  the  Berserker  smoking  you 
out  some  dark  night,  as  he  would  smoke  a  wasps' 
nest.  And  I  will,  by " 

"  Hereward,  Hereward ! "  cried  his  mother,  "godless, 
god-forgotten  boy,  what  words  are  these?  Silence, 
before  you  burden  your  soul  with  an  oath  which  the 
devils  in  hell  will  accept,  and  force  you  to  keep,"  and 
she  sprang  up,  and  seizing  his  arm,  laid  her  hand 
upon  his  mouth. 

Hereward  looked  at  her  majestic  face,  once  lovely, 
now  stern  and  careworn  ;  and  trembled  for  a  moment. 
Had  there  been  any  tenderness  in  it,  his  history  might 
have  been  a  very  different  one  :  but  alas  !  there  was 
none.  Not  that  she  was  in  herself  untender :  but 
that  her  great  piety  (call  it  not  superstition,  for  it 
was  then  the  only  form  known  or  possible  to  pure 
and  devout  souls)  was  so  outraged  by  this  insult  to 
that  clergy  whose  willing  slave  she  had  become,  that 
the  only  method  of  reclaiming  the  sinner  had  been 
long  forgotten  in  genuine  horror  at  his  sin.  "Is  it 
not  enough,"  she  went  on  sternly,  "that  you  should 
have  become  the  bully  and  the  ruffian  of  all  the  fens  ? 


32  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

— that  Hereward  the  leaper,  Hereward  the  wrestler, 
Hereward  the  thrower  of  the  hammer — sports  after 
all  only  fit  for  the  sons  of  slaves,  should  be  alsc 
Hereward  the  drunkard,  Hereward  the  common  fighter. 
Hereward  the  breaker  of  houses,  Hereward  the  leader 
of  mobs  of  boon  companions  who  bring  back  to  us, 
in  shame  and  sorrow,  the  days  when  our  heathen 
forefathers  ravaged  this  land  with  fire  and  sword  ? 
Is  it  not  enough  for  me  that  my  son  should  be  a 
common  stabber ?  " 

"Whoever  called  me  stabber  to  you,  lies.  If  I 
have  killed  men,  or  had  them  killed,  I  have  done  it 
in  fair  fight." 

But  she  went  on  unheeding — "  Is  it  not  enough  that 
after  having  squandered  on  your  fellows  all  the  money, 
that  you  could  wring  from  my  bounty,  or  win  at  your 
base  sports,  you  should  have  robbed  your  own  father, 
collected  his  rents  behind  his  back,  taken  money  and 
goods  from  his  tenants  by  threats  and  blows  :  but  that, 
after  outraging  them,  you  must  add  to  all  this  a  worse 
sin  likewise,  outraging  God,  and  driving  me — me  who 
have  borne  with  you,  me  who  have  concealed  all  for 
your  sake — to  tell  your  father  that  of  which  the  very 
telling  will  turn  my  hair  to  gray  ?  " 

"  So  you  will  tell  my  father  ?  "  said  Hereward  coolly. 

"  And  if  I  should  not,  this  monk  himself  is  bound  to 
do  so,  or  his  superior,  your  uncle  Brand." 

"My  uncle  Brand  will  not,  and  your  monk  dare 
not." 

"Then  I  must.  I  have  loved  you  long  and  well : 
but  there  is  one  thing  which  I  must  love  better  than 
you,  and  that  is  my  conscience  and  my  Maker." 

"Those  are  two  things,  my  lady  mother,  and  not 
one  ;  so  you  had  better  not  confound  them.  As  for 
the  latter,  do  you  not  think  that  He  who  made  the 
world  is  well  able  to  defend  His  own  property — if  the 
lands,  and  houses,  and  cattle,  and  money,  which  these 
men  wheedle  and  threaten  and  forge  out  of  you  and 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  33 

my  father,  are  really  His  property,  and  not  merely 
their  plunder?  As  for  your  conscience,  my  lady 
mother,  really  you  have  done  so  many  good  deeds  in 
your  life,  that  it  might  be  beneficial  to  you  to  do  a 
bad  deed  once  in  a  way,  so  as  to  keep  your  soul 
in  a  wholesome  state  of  humility." 

The  monk  groaned  aloud.  Lady  Godiva  groaned  : 
but  it  was  inwardly.  There  was  silence  for  a  moment. 
Both  were  abashed  by  the  lad's  utter  shamelessness. 

"And  you  will  tell  my  father?"  said  he  again. 
"He  is  at  the  old  miracle-worker's  court  at  West- 
minster. He  will  tell  the  miracle-worker ;  and  I 
shall  be  outlawed." 

"And  if  you  be,  wretched  boy,  whom  have  you  to 
blame  but  yourself?  Can  you  expect  that  the  King, 
sainted  even  as  he  is  before  his  death,  dare  pass  over 
such  an  offence  against  Holy  Church  ?  " 

"Blame?  I  shall  blame  no  one.  Pass  over?  I 
hope  he  will  not  pass  over  it.  I  only  want  an  excuse 
like  that  for  turning  kempery-man — knight-errant,  as 
those  Norman  puppies  call  it — like  Regnar  Lodbrog, 
or  Frithiof,  or  Harold  Hardraade  ;  and  try  what  a  man 
can  do  for  himself  in  the  world  with  nothing  to  help 
him  in  heaven  and  earth,  with  neither  saint  nor  angel, 
friend  or  counsellor,  to  see  to  him,  save  his  wits  and 
his  good  sword.  So  send  off  the  messenger,  good 
mother  mine ;  and  I  will  promise  you  I  will  not  have 
him  ham-strung  on  the  way,  as  some  of  my  house- 
carles  would  do  if  I  but  held  up  my  hand  ;  and  let  the 
miracle-monger  fill  up  the  measure  of  his  folly,  by 
making  an  enemy  of  one  more  bold  fellow  in  the 
world." 

And  he  swaggered  out  of  the  room. 

When  he  was  gone,  the  Lady  Godiva  bowed  her 
head  into  her  lap,  and  wept  long  and  bitterly. 
Neither  her  maidens  nor  the  priest  dare  speak  to  her 
for  nigh  an  hour  :  but  at  the  end  of  that  time  she  lifted 
up  her  head,  and  settled  her  face  again,  till  it  was 
H.W.  B 


34  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

like  that  of  a  marble  saint  over  a  minster  door ;  and 
called  for  ink  and  paper,  and  wrote  her  letter  ;  and 
then  asked  for  a  trusty  messenger  who  should  carry 
it  up  to  Westminster. 

"  None  so  swift  or  sure,"  said  the  house  steward, 
"as  Martin  Lightfoot." 

Lady  Godiva  shook  her  head.  "I  mistrust  that 
man,"  she  said.  "  He  is  too  fond  of  my  poor — of  the 
Lord  Hereward." 

"  He  is  a  strange  one,  my  lady,  and  no  one  knows 
whence  he  came,  and  I  sometimes  fancy  whither  he 
may  go  either :  but  ever  since  my  lord  threatened  to 
hang  him  for  talking  with  my  young  master,  he  has 
never  spoken  to  him,  nor  scarcely,  indeed,  to  living 
soul.  And  one  thing  there  is  makes  him  or  any  man 
sure,  as  long  as  he  is  well  paid  ;  and  that  is,  that  he 
cares  for  nothing  in  heaven  or  earth  save  himself  and 
what  he  can  get." 

So  Martin  Lightfoot  was  sent  for.  He  came  in 
straight  into  the  lady's  bedchamber,  after  the  simple 
fashion  of  those  days.  He  was  a  tall,  bony  man,  as 
was  to  be  expected  from  his  nickname  ;  lean  as  a 
rake,  with  a  long  hooked  nose,  a  scanty  brown  beard, 
and  a  high  conical  head.  His  only  garment  was  a 
shabby  gray  woollen  tunic  which  served  him  both  as 
coat  and  kilt,  and  laced  brogues  of  un tanned  hide.  He 
might  have  been  any  age  from  twenty  to  forty  :  but 
his  face  was  disfigured  with  deep  scars  and  long  ex- 
posure to  the  weather.  He  dropped  on  one  knee,  hold- 
ing his  greasy  cap  in  his  hand,  and  looked,  not  at  his 
lady's  face,  but  at  her  feet,  with  a  stupid  and  frightened 
expression.  She  knew  very  little  of  him,  save  that 
her  husband  had  picked  him  up  upon  the  road  as  a 
wanderer  some  five  years  since  ;  that  he  had  been  em- 
ployed as  a  doer  of  odd  jobs  and  runner  of  messages  ; 
and  that  he  was  supposed  from  his  taciturnity 
and  strangeness  to  have  something  uncanny  about 
him. 


HERKWARD   THE   WAKE.  35 

"  Martin,"  said  the  lady,  "  they  tell  me  that  you  are 
a  silent  and  a  prudent  man." 
"That  am  1 

"  'Tongue  breaketh  bane,' 
Though  she  herself  hath  nane." 

"  I  shall  try  you :  do  you  know  your  way  to 
London  ?  " 

"Yes.  Cardyke,  King  Street,  Ermine  Street, 
London  Town." 

"To  your  lord's  lodgings  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  How  long  shall  you  be  going  there  with  this 
letter?" 

"  A  day  and  a  half." 

"  When  shall  you  be  back  hither? " 

"On  the  fourth  day." 

"  And  you  will  go  to  my  lord  and  deliver  this  letter 
safely  ?  " 

"Yes." 

*'  And  safely  bring  back  an  answer  ?  " 

"Nay,  not  that." 

"Not  that?" 

Martin  made  a  doleful  face,  and  drew  his  hand  first 
across  his  leg,  and  then  across  his  throat,  as  hints  of 
the  doom  which  he  expected. 

"  He — the  Lord  Hereward — has  promised  not  to  let 
thee  be  harmed." 

Martin  gave  a  start,  and  his  dull  eyes  flashed  out  a 
moment :  but  the  next  he  answered,  as  curtly  as  was 
his  wont : 

"  The  more  fool  he.  But  women's  bodkins  are 
sharp,  as  well  as  men's  knives." 

4 '  Bodkins  ?     Whose  ?     What  babblest  of  ?  " 

"Them,"  said  Martin,  pointing  to  the  bower  maidens 
— girls  of  good  family  who  stood  round ;  chosen  for 
their  beauty,  after  the  fashion  of  those  times,  to  attend 


36  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

on  great  ladies.  There  was  a  cry  of  angry  and  con- 
temptuous denial,  not  unmixed  with  something  like 
laughter,  which  showed  that  Martin  had  but  spoken 
the  truth.  Hereward,  in  spite  of  all  his  sins,  was  the 
darling  of  his  mother's  bower  ;  and  there  was  not  one 
of  the  damsels  but  would  have  done  anything  short  of 
murder  to  have  prevented  Martin  carrying  the  letter. 

"  Silence,  man  !  "  said  Lady  Godiva,  so  sternly  that 
Martin  saw  that  he  had  gone  too  far.  "  How  knows 
such  as  thou  what  is  in  this  letter  ?  " 

"  All  the  town  must  know,"  said  Martin  sullenly. 

"  Best  that  they  should,  and  know  that  right  is  done 
here,"  said  she,  trying  to  be  stern. 

"  I  will  take  it,"  said  Martin.  He  held  out  his  hand, 
took  it  and  looked  at  it,  but  upside  down  and  without 
any  attempt  to  read  it. 

"  His  own  mother  !  "  said  he,  after  a  while. 

"  What  is  that  to  thee  ?  "  said  Lady  Godiva,  blushing 
and  kindling. 

"  Nothing — I  had  no  mother.     But  God  has  one." 

"  What  meanest  thou,  knave  ?  Wilt  thou  take  the 
letter  or  no  ?  " 

"  I  will  take  it."  And  he  again  looked  at  it,  without 
rising  off  his  knee.  "  His  own  father,  too." 

"  What  is  that  to  thee,  I  say  again  ?  " 

"  Nothing — I  have  no  father.  But  God's  Son  has 
one." 

"  What  wilt  thou,  thou  strange  man?"  asked  she, 
puzzled  and  half  frightened;  "and  how  earnest  thou, 
again  I  ask,  to  know  what  is  in  this  letter  ?  " 

"All  the  town,  I  say  again,  must  know.  A  city 
that  is  set  on  a  hill  cannot  be  hid.  On  the  fourth  day 
from  this  I  will  be  back." 

And  Martin  rose,  and  putting  the  letter  solemnly  into 
the  purse  at  his  girdle,  shot  out  of  the  door  with 
clenched  teeth,  as  a  man  upon  a  fixed  purpose  which  it 
would  lighten  his  heart  to  carry  out.  He  ran  rapidly 
through  the  large  outer  hall,  past  the  long  oak  table, 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  37 

at  which  Hereward  and  his  boon  companions  were 
drinking  and  roystering.  As  he  passed  the  young 
lord  he  cast  on  him  a  look  so  full  of  meaning,  that 
though  Hereward  knew  not  what  the  meaning  was, 
it  startled  him,  and  for  a  moment  softened  him.  Did 
this  man,  who  had  sullenly  avoided  him  for  more  than 
two  years,  whom  he  had  looked  on  as  a  clod  or  a  post 
in  the  field  beneath  his  notice,  since  he  could  be  of  no 
use  to  him — did  this  man  still  care  for  him  ?  Hereward 
had  reason  to  know  better  than  most,  that  there  was 
something  strange  and  uncanny  about  the  man.  Did 
he  mean  him  well  ?  Or  had  he  some  grudge  against 
him,  which  made  him  undertake  this  journey  willingly 
and  out  of  spite — possibly  with  the  will  to  make  bad 
worse?  For  an  instant  Hereward's  heart  misgave 
him.  He  would  stop  the  letter  at  all  risks.  "  Hold 
him  !  "  he  cried  to  his  comrades. 

But  Martin  turned  to  him,  laid  his  finger  on  his  lips, 
smiled  kindly,  and  saying,  "You  promised!"  caught 
up  a  loaf  from  the  table,  slipped  from  amongst  them 
like  an  eel,  and  darted  through  the  door,  and  out  of 
the  close.  They  followed  him  to  the  great  gate,  and 
there  stopped,  some  cursing,  some  laughing.  To  give 
Martin  Lig'htfoot  a  yard  of  law  was  never  to  come  up 
with  him  again.  Some  called  for  bows  to  bring  him 
down  with  a  parting  shot.  But  Hereward  forbade 
them  ;  and  stood  leaning  against  the  gate-post,  watch- 
ing him  trot  on  like  a  lean  wolf  over  the  lawn,  till  he 
sprang  upon  the  Car-dyke  bank,  and  fled  straight  south 
into  the  misty  fen. 

"Now  lads,"  said  Hereward,  "home  with  you  all, 
and  make  your  peace  with  your  fathers.  In  this 
house  you  never  drink  ale  again." 

They  looked  at  him,  surprised. 

"You  are  disbanded,  my  gallant  army.  As  long 
as  I  could  cut  long  thongs  out  of  other  men's  hides, 
I  could  feed  you  like  earl's  sons :  but  now  I  must 
feed  myself;  and  a  dog  over  his  bone  wants  no 


38  HEREVVARD   THE   WAKE. 

company.  Outlawed  I  shall  be,  before  the  week  is 
out ;  and  unless  you  wish  to  be  outlawed  too,  you 
will  obey  orders,  and  home." 

"We  will  follow  you  to  the  world's  end,"  cried 
some. 

"To  the  rope's  end,  lads:  that  is  all  you  will 
get  in  my  company.  Go  home  with  you,  and  those 
who  feel  a  calling,  let  them  turn  monks  ;  and  those 
who  have  not,  let  them  learn 

"  For  to  plough  and  to  sow, 
And  to  reap  and  to  mow, 
And  to  be  a  farmer's  boy. 

Good-night." 

And  he  went  in,  and  shut  the  great  gates  after 
him,  leaving  them  astonished. 

To  take  his  advice,  and  go  home,  was  the  simplest 
thing  to  be  done.  A  few  of  them  on  their  return 
were  soundly  beaten,  and  deserved  it ;  a  few  were 
hidden  by  their  mothers  for  a  week  in  hay-lofts 
and  hen-roosts,  till  their  fathers'  anger  had  passed 
away.  But  only  one  seems  to  have  turned  monk 
or  clerk,  and  that  was  Leofric  the  Unlucky,  godson 
of  the  great  Earl,  and  poet-in-ordinary  to  the  band. 

The  next  morning  at  dawn  Hereward  mounted  his 
best  horse,  armed  himself  from  head  to  foot,  and 
rode  over  to  Peterborough. 

When  he  came  to  the  abbey  gate,  he  smote  thereon 
with  his  lance-butt,  till  the  porter's  teeth  rattled  in 
his  head  for  fear. 

"  Let  me  in  ! "  he  shouted.  "  I  am  Hereward 
Leofricsson.  I  must  see  my  uncle  Brand." 

"Oh,  my  most  gracious  lord,"  cried  the  porter, 
thrusting  his  head  out  of  the  wicket,  "what  is  this 
that  you  have  been  doing  to  our  Steward  ?  " 

"The  tithe  of  what  I  will  do,  unless  you  open 
the  gate  !  " 

"Oh,    my   lord!"    said    the   porter.    a<=   h^ 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  39 

it,  "if  our  Lady  and  St.  Peter  would  but  have  mercy 
on  your  fair  face,  and  convert  your  soul  to  the  fear 
of  God  and  man- " 

"  She  would  make  me  as  good  an  old  fool  as  you. 
Fetch  my  uncle  the  Prior." 

The  porter  obeyed.  The  son  of  Earl  Leofric  was 
as  a  young  lion  among  the  sheep  in  those  parts ; 
and  few  dare  say  him  nay,  certainly  not  the  monks 
of  Peterborough  ;  moreover,  the  good  porter  could 
not  help  being  strangely  fond  of  Hereward — as  was 
every  one  whom  he  did  not  insult,  rob,  or  kill. 

Out  came  Brand,  a  noble  elder :  more  fit,  from  his 
eye  and  gait,  to  be  a  knight  than  a  monk.  He  looked 
sadly  at  Hereward. 

' '  '  Dear  is  bought  the  honey  that  is  licked  off 
the  thorn,'  quoth  Hending,"  said  he. 

"  Hending  bought  his  wisdom  by  experience,  I 
suppose,"  said  Hereward,  "and  so  must  I.  So  I 
am  just  starting  out  to  see  the  world,  uncle." 

"  Naughty,  naughty  boy  !  If  we  had  thee  safe 
here  again  for  a  week,  we  would  take  this  hot  blood 
out  of  thee,  and  send  thee  home  in  thy  right  mind." 

"  Bring  a  rod  and  whip  me,  then.  Try,  and  you 
shall  have  your  chance.  Every  one  else  has  had, 
and  this  is  the  end  of  their  labours." 

"By  the  chains  of  St.  Peter,"  quoth  the  monk, 
"  that  is  just  what  thou  needest. — To  hoist  thee  on 
such  another  fool's  back,  truss  thee  up,  and  lay  it 
on  lustily,  till  thou  art  ashamed.  To  treat  thee  as 
a  man  is  only  to  make  thee  a  more  heady  blown-up 
ass  than  thou  art  already." 

' '  True,  most  wise  uncle.  And  therefore  my  still 
wiser  parents  are  going  to  treat  me  like  a  man  indeed, 
and  send  me  out  into  the  world  to  seek  my  fortunes  !  " 

"Eh?" 

"  They  are  going  to  prove  how  thoroughly  they 
trust  me  to  take  care  of  myself,  by  outlawing  me. 
Eh  ?  say  I  in  return.  Is  not  that  an  honour,  and  a 


40  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

proof  that  I  have  not  shown  myself  a  fool,  though 
I  may  have  a  madman  ?  " 

"Outlaw  you?  Oh,  my  boy,  my  darling,  my 
pride !  Get  off  th  -  horse,  and  don't  sit  up  there, 
hand  on  hip,  like  a  turbaned  Saracen,  defying  God 
and  man  :  but  come  down  and  talk  reason  to  me,  for 
the  sake  of  St.  Peter  and  all  saints." 

Hereward  threw  himself  off  his  horse,  and  threw 
his  arms  round  his  uncle's  neck. 

"Pish!  Now,  uncle,  don't  cry,  do  what  you  will, 
lest  I  cry  too.  Help  me  to  be  a  man  while  I  live, 
even  if  I  go  to  the  black  place  when  I  die." 

"  It  shall  not  be  ! "  .  .  .  and  the  monk  swore  by 
all  the  relics  in  Peterborough  minster. 

"  It  must  be.  It  shall  be.  I  like  to  be  outlawed. 
I  want  to  be  outlawed.  It  makes  one  feel  like  a  man. 
There  is  not  an  earl  in  England,  save  my  father,  who 
has  not  been  outlawed  in  his  time.  My  brother  Algar 
will  be  outlawed  before  he  dies,  if  he  has  the  spirit 
of  a  man  in  him.  It  is  the  fashion,  my  uncle,  and 
I  must  follow  it.  So  hey  for  the  merry  green  wood, 
and  the  long  ships,  and  the  swan's  bath,  and  all 
the  rest  of  it.  Uncle,  you  will  lend  me  fifty  silver 
pennies  ?  " 

"  I  ?  I  would  not  lend  thee  one,  if  I  had  it,  which 
I  have  not.  And  yet,  old  fool  that  I  am,  I  believe 
I  would." 

"  I  would  pay  thee  back  honestly.  I  shall  go  down 
to  Constantinople  to  the  Varangers,  get  my  Polotas- 
warf  x  out  of  the  Kaiser's  treasure,  and  pay  thee  back 
five  to  one." 

"  What  does  this  son  of  Belial  here  ?  "  asked  an 
austere  voice. 

"Ah!  Abbot  Leofric,  my  very  good  lord.  I  have 
come  to  ask  hospitality  of  you  for  some  three  days. 
By  that  time  I  shall  be  a  wolfs  head,  and  out  of  the 

•  See  "The  Heimskringla,"  Harold  Hardraade's  Saga,  for  the  meaning  of  this 
word. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  41 

law:  and  then,  if  you  will  give  me  ten  minutes'  start, 
you  may  put  your  bloodhounds  on  my  track,  and 
see  which  runs  fastest,  they  or  I.  You  are  a  gentleman, 
and  a  man  of  honour  ;  so  I  trust  to  you  to  feed  my 
horse  fairly  the  meanwhile,  and  not  to  let  your  monks 
poison  me." 

The  Abbot's  face  relaxed.  He  tried  to  look  as 
solemn  as  he  could  ;  but  he  ended  in  bursting  into 
a  very  great  laughter. 

"The  insolence  of  this  lad  passes  the  miracles  of 
all  saints.  He  robs  St.  Peter  on  the  highway,  breaks 
into  his  abbey,  insults  him  to  his  face,  and  then  asks 
him  for  hospitality  ;  and " 

"And  gets  it,"  quoth  Hereward. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  with  him,  Brand,  my  friend  ? 
If  we  turn  him  out " 

"Which  we  cannot  do,"  said  Brand,  looking  at  the 
well  mailed  and  armed  lad,  "without  calling  in  half 
a  dozen  of  our  men-at-arms." 

"In  which  case  there  would  be  blood  shed,  and 
scandal  made  in  the  holy  precincts." 

"And  nothing  gained;  for  yield  he  would  not  till 
he  was  killed  outright,  which  Heaven  forbid  !  " 

"  Amen.  And  if  he  stay  here,  he  may  be  persuaded 
to  repentance." 

"And  restitution." 

"  As  for  that,"  quoth  Hereward  (who  had  remounted 
his  horse  from  prudential  motives,  and  set  him  athwart 
the  gateway,  so  that  there  was  no  chance  of  the 
doors  being  slammed  behind  him),  "if  either  of  you 
will  lend  me  sixteen  pennies,  I  will  pay  them  back  to 
you  and  St.  Peter  before  I  die,  with  interest  enough 
to  satisfy  any  Jew,  on  the  word  of  a  gentleman  and 
an  earl's  son." 

The  Abbot  burst  again  into  a  great  laughter. 
"Come  in,  thou  graceless  renegade,  and  we  will 
see  to  thee  and  thy  horse  ;  and  I  will  pray  to  St. 
Peter ;  and  I  doubt  not  he  will  have  patience  with 


42  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

thee,  for  he  is  very  merciful ;  and  after  all,  thy  parents 
have  been  exceeding  good  to  us,  and  the  righteous- 
ness of  the  father,  like  his  sins,  is  sometimes  visited 
on  the  children." 

Now,  why  were  the  two  ecclesiastics  so  uncanonic- 
ally  kind  to  this  wicked  youth  ? 

Perhaps  because  both  the  old  bachelors  were  wishing 
from  their  hearts  that  they  had  just  such  a  son  of 
their  own.  And  beside,  Earl  Leofric  was  a  very 
great  man  indeed  ;  and  the  wind  might  change ;  for 
it  is  an  unstable  world. 

"Only,  mind,  one  thing,"  said  the  naughty  boy,  as 
he  dismounted,  and  halloed  to  a  lay-brother  to  see 
to  his  horse — "don't  let  me  see  the  face  of  that 
Herluin." 

"And  why?  You  have  wronged  him,  and  he  will 
forgive  you,  doubtless,  like  a  good  Christian  as 
he  is." 

"That  is  his  concern.  But  if  I  see  him,  I  cut  off 
his  head.  And,  as  uncle  Brand  knows,  I  always  sleep 
with  my  sword  under  my  pillow." 

"  Oh,  that  such  a  mother  should  have  borne  such  a 
son  !  "  groaned  the  Abbot,  as  they  went  in. 

On  the  fifth  day  came  Martin  Lightfoot,  and  found 
Hereward  in  Prior  Brand's  private  cell. 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  Hereward  coolly. 

"  Is  he — is  he "  stammered  Brand,  and  could 

not  finish  his  sentence. 

Martin  nodded. 

Hereward  laughed — a  loud,  swaggering,  uneasy 
laugh. 

"  See  what  it  is  to  be  born  of  just  and  pious 
parents.  Come,  Master  Trot-alone,  speak  out  and  tell 
us  all  about  it.  Thy  lean  wolfs  legs  have  run  to 
some  purpose.  Open  thy  lean  wolfs  mouth  and 
speak  for  once,  lest  I  ease  thy  legs  for  the  rest  of  thy 
life  by  a  cut  across  the  hams.  Find  thy  lost  tongue, 

I.      ..  9  O  ' 

say  1 " 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  43 

"  Walls  have  ears,  as  well  as  the  wild  wood,"  said 
Martin. 

"We  are  safe  here,"  said  the  Prior;  "so  speak, 
and  tell  us  the  whole  truth." 

"Well,  when  the  Earl  read  the  letter,  he  turned 
red,  and  pale  again,  and  then  nought  but — '  Men, 
follow  me  to  the  King-  at  Westminster.'  So  we  went, 
all  with  our  weapons,  twenty  or  more,  along  the 
Strand,  and  up  into  the  King's  new  hall ;  and  a  grand 
hall  it  is,  but  not  easy  to  get  into,  for  the  crowd  of 
monks  and  beggars  on  the  stairs,  hindering  honest 
folks'  business.  And  there  sat  the  King  on  a  high 
settle,  with  his  pink  face  and  white  hair,  looking  as 
royal  as  a  bell-wether  new  washed  ;  and  on  either  side 
of  him,  on  the  same  settle,  sat  the  old  fox  and  the 
young  wolf."1 

"Godwin  and  Harold?  And  where  was  the 
Queen  ?  " 

"Sitting  on  a  stool  at  his  feet,  with  her  hands 
together  as  if  she  were  praying,  and  her  eyes  down- 
cast, as  demure  as  any  cat.  And  so  is  fulfilled  the 
story,  how  the  sheep-dog  went  out  to  get  married, 
and  left  the  fox,  the  wolf,  and  the  cat  to  guard  the 
flock." 

"  If  thou  hast  found  thy  tongue,"  said  Brand, 
"thou  art  like  enough  to  lose  it  again  by  slice  of 
knife,  talking  such  ribaldry  of  dignities.  Dost  not 
know" — and  he  sank  his  voice — "that  Abbot  Leofric 
is  Earl  Harold's  man,  and  that  Harold  himself  made 
him  abbot  ?  " 

"  I  said — Walls  have  ears.  It  was  you  who  told 
me  that  we  were  safe.  However,  I  will  bridle  the 
unruly  one."  And  he  went  on.  "And  your  father 
walked  up  the  hall,  his  left  hand  on  his  sword-hilt, 
looking  an  earl  all  over,  as  he  is." 

"  He  is  that,"  said  Hereward,  in  a  low  voice. 

1  It  must  be  remembered  that  the  house  of  Godwin  is  spoken  of  throughout 
this  book  by  hereditary  enemiea. 


44  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

"And  he  bowed;  and  the  most  magnificent, 
powerful,  and  virtuous  Godwin  (is  that  speaking  evil 
of  dignities  ?)  would  have  beckoned  him  up  to  sit  on 
the  high  settle :  but  he  looked  straight  at  the  King, 
as  if  there  were  never  a  Godwin  or  a  Godwinsson  on 
earth,  and  cried  as  he  stood  : 

"  'Justice,  my  Lord  the  King  ! ' 

"And  at  that  the  King  turned  pale,  and  said: 
'  Who  ?  What  ?  O  miserable  world  !  O  last  days 
drawing  nearer  and  nearer  !  O  earth,  full  of  violence 
and  blood  !  Who  has  wronged  thee  now,  most  dear 
and  noble  Earl  ? ' 

"  'Justice  against  my  own  son.' 

"  At  that  the  fox  looked  at  the  wolf,  and  the  wolf 
at  the  fox,  and  if  they  did  not  smile,  it  was  not  for 
want  of  will,  I  warrant.  But  your  father  went  on, 
and  told  all  his  story ;  and  when  he  came  to  your 
robbing  master  monk — '  O  apostate  ! '  cries  the  bell- 
wether, '  O  spawn  of  Beelzebub  !  excommunicate  him, 
with  bell,  book,  and  candle.  May  he  be  thrust  down 
with  Korah,  Balaam,  and  Iscariot,  to  the  most  Stygian 
pot  of  the  sempiternal  Tartarus.' 

"  And  at  that  your  father  smiled.  '  That  is  bishops' 
work,'  says  he  ;  '  and  I  want  king's  work  from  you, 
Lord  King.  Outlaw  me  this  young  rebel's  sinful 
body,  as  by  law  you  can  ;  and  leave  his  sinful  soul 
to  the  priests — or  to  God's  mercy,  which  is  like  to 
be  more  than  theirs.' 

"Then  the  Queen  looked  up.  'Your  own  son, 
noble  Earl  ?  Think  of  what  you  are  doing — and  one, 
too,  whom  all  say  is  so  gallant  and  so  fair.  Oh, 
persuade  him,  father — persuade  him,  Harold  my 
brother — or,  if  you  cannot  persuade  him,  persuade 
the  King  at  least,  and  save  this  poor  youth  from 
exile.'" 

"Puss  Velvet-paw  knew  well  enough,"  said  Here- 
ward,  in  a  low  voice,  "that  the  way  to  harden  my 
father's  heart  was  to  set  Godwin  and  Harold  on 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  45 

softening  it.  They  ask  my  pardon  from  the  King-? 
I  would  not  take  it  at  their  asking,  even  if  my  father 
would." 

"There  spoke  a  true  Leofricsson,"  said  Brand,  in 
spite  of  himself. 

"  '  By  the '  (and  Martin  repeated  a  certain  very 

solemn  oath),  said  your  father,  'justice  I  will  have, 
my  Lord  King.  Who  talks  to  me  of  my  own  son? 
You  put  me  into  my  earldom  to  see  justice  done, 
and  law  obeyed  ;  and  how  shall  I  make  others  keep 
within  bound  if  I  am  not  to  keep  in  my  own  flesh 
and  blood  ?  Here  is  this  land  running  headlong  to 
ruin,  because  every  nobleman — ay,  every  churl  who 
owns  a  manor,  if  he  dares — must  needs  arm  and 
saddle,  and  levy  war  on  his  own  behalf,  and  harry 
and  slay  the  King's  lieges,  if  he  have  not  garlic  to 
his  roast  goose  every  time  he  chooses' — and  there 
your  father  did  look  at  Godwin,  once  and  for  all — 
'  and  shall  I  let  my  son  follow  the  fashion,  and  do 
his  best  to  leave  the  land  open  and  weak  for  Norse- 
man, or  Dane,  or  Frenchman,  or  whoever  else  hopes 
next  to  mount  the  throne  of  a  king  who  is  too  holy  to 
leave  an  heir  behind  him  ?  ' ' 

' '  Ahoi !  Martin  the  silent !  Where  learnedst  thou 
so  suddenly  the  trade  of  preaching  ?  I  thought  thou 
hadst  kept  thy  wind  for  thy  running  this  two  years 
past.  Thou  wouldst  make  as  good  a  talker  among 
the  Witan  as  Godwin  himself.  Thou  givest  it  us, 
all  word  for  word,  and  voice  and  gesture  withal,  as 
if  thou  wert  King  Edward's  French  Chancellor." 

Martin  smiled.  "I  am  like  Falada  the  horse,  my 
lords,  who  could  only  speak  to  his  own  true  princess. 
Why  I  held  my  tongue  of  late,  was  only  lest  they  should 
cut  my  head  off  for  talking,  as  they  did  poor  Falada's." 

"Thou  art  a  very  crafty  knave,"  said  Brand,  "and 
hast  had  clerk-learning  in  thy  time,  I  can  see,  and 
made  bad  use  of  it.  I  misdoubt  very  much  that  thou 
art  some  runaway  monk." 


46  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

"That  am  I  not,  by  St.  Peter's  chains!"  said 
Martin,  in  an  eager,  terrified  voice.  "  Lord  Hereward, 
I  came  hither  as  your  father's  messenger  and  servant. 
You  will  see  me  safe  out  of  this  abbey,  like  an  honour- 
able gentleman  ! " 

"  I  will.  All  I  know  of  him,  uncle,  is  that  he  used 
to  tell  me  stories,  when  I  was  a  boy,  of  enchanters 
and  knights  and  dragons,  and  such-like ;  and  got 
into  trouble  for  filling  my  head  with  such  fancies. 
Now  let  him  tell  his  story  in  peace." 

"  He  shall :  but  I  misdoubt  the  fellow  very  much. 
He  talks  as  if  he  knew  Latin  ;  and  what  business 
has  a  foot-running  slave  to  do  that  ?  " 

So  Martin  went  on,  somewhat  abashed.  "'And,' 
said  your  father,  'justice  I  will  have,  and  leave  in- 
justice, and  the  overlooking  of  it,  to  those  who  wish 
to  profit  thereby.' 

"And  at  that  Godwin  smiled,  and  said  to  the  King, 
'  The  Earl  is  wise,  as  usual,  and  speaks  like  a  very 
Solomon.  Your  Majesty  must,  in  spite  of  your  own 
tenderness  of  heart,  have  these  letters  of  outlawry 
made  out.' 

"Then  all  our  men  murmured — and  I  as  loud  as 
any.  But  old  Surturbrand  the  housecarie  did  more  ; 
for  out  he  stepped  to  your  father's  side,  and  spoke 
right  up  before  the  King. 

"  '  Bonny  times,'  he  said,  '  I  have  lived  to  see,  vaen 
a  lad  of  Earl  Oslac's  blood  is  sent  out  of  the  land,  a 
beggar  and  a  wolfs  head,  for  playing  a  boy's  trick  or 
two,  and  upsetting  a  shaveling  priest !  We  managed 
such  wild  young  colts  better,  we  Vikings  who 
conquered  the  Danelagh.  If  Canute  had  had  a  son 
like  Hereward — as  would  to  God  he  had  had — he 
would  have  dealt  with  him  as  old  Swend  Forkbeard 
(God  grant  I  meet  him  in  Valhalla,  in  spite  of  all 
priests  !)  did  by  Canute  himself  when  he  was  }roung, 
and  kicked  and  plunged  awhile  at  being  first  bitted 
and  saddled.' 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  47 

"'What  does  the  man  say?'  asked  the  King1,  for 
old  Surturbrand  was  talking-  broad  Danish. 

"  '  He  is  a  housecarle  of  mine,  Lord  King-,  a  good 
man  and  true  ;  but  old  age  and  rough  Danish  blood 
has  made  him  forget  that  he  stands  before  kings  and 
earls. ' 

"'By  the  head  of  Odin's  horse,  Earl!'  says 
Surturbrand,  '  I  have  fought  knee  to  knee  beside  a 
braver  king-  than  that  there,  and  nobler  earls  than 
ever  a  one  here  ;  and  was  never  afraid,  like  a  free 
Dane,  to  speak  my  mind  to  them,  by  sea  or  land. 
And  if  the  King,  with  his  French  ways,  does  not 
understand  a  plain  man's  talk,  the  two  earls  yonder 
do  right  well  ;  and  I  say — Deal  by  this  lad  in  the 
good  old  fashion.  Give  him  .ialf  a  dozen  long  ships, 
and  what  crews  he  can  get  together,  and  send  him 
out,  as  Canute  would  have  done,  to  seek  his  fortune 
like  a  Viking ;  and  if  he  comes  home  with  plenty  of 
wounds,  and  plenty  of  plunder,  give  him  an  earldom 
as  he  deserves.  Do  you  ask  your  countess,  Earl 
Godwin — she  is  of  the  rig-ht  Danish  blood,  God  bless 
her  !  though  she  is  your  wife — and  see  if  she  does  not 
know  how  to  bring1  a  naughty  lad  to  his  senses.' 

"Then  Harold  the  Earl  said,  'The  old  man  is 
right,  King,  listen  to  what  he  says.'  And  he  told 
him  all,  quite  eagerly." 

"How  did  you  know  that?  Can  you  understand 
French  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  poor  idiot,  give  me  a  halfpenny,"  said 
Martin,  in  a  doleful  voice,  as  he  threw  into  his  face 
and  whole  figure  a  look  of  helpless  stupidity  and 
awkwardness,  which  set  them  both  laughing-. 

But  Hereward  checked  himself.  "  And  thou 
thinkest  he  was  in  earnest  ?  " 

"As  sure  as  there  are  holy  crows  in  Crowland. 
But  it  was  of  no  use.  Your  father  got  a  parchment, 
with  an  outlandish  Norman  seal  hanging  to  it,  and 
sent  me  off  with  it  that  same  night  to  give  to  the 


48  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

lawman.  So  wolfs  head  you  are,  my  lord,  and  there 
is  no  use  crying  over  spilt  milk." 

"  And  Harold  spoke  for  me  ?  Not  that  I  care,  but 
it  will  be  as  well  to  tell  Abbot  Leofric  that,  in  case  he 
be  inclined  to  turn  traitor,  and  refuse  to  open  the 
gates.  Once  outside  them,  I  fear  not  mortal  man." 

"  My  poor  boy,  there  will  be  many  a  one  whom 
thou  hast  wronged  only  too  ready  to  lie  in  wait  for 
thee,  now  thy  life  is  in  every  man's  hand.  If  the 
outlawry  is  published,  thou  hadst  best  start  to-night, 
and  get  past  Lincoln  before  morning." 

"  I  shall  stay  quietly  here,  and  get  a  good  night's 
rest ;  and  then  ride  out  to-morrow  morning  in  the 
face  of  the  whole  shire.  No,  not  a  word !  You 
would  not  have  me  sneak  away  like  a  coward  ?  " 

Brand  smiled  and  shrugged  his  shoulders  :  being 
very  much  of  the  same  mind. 

"At  least,  go  north." 

"And  why  north?" 

"  You  have  no  quarrel  in  Northumberland,  and  the 
King's  writ  runs  very  slowly  there,  if  at  all.  Old 
Siward  Digre  may  stand  your  friend." 

"  He  ?  he  is  a  fast  friend  of  my  father's." 

"  What  of  that  ?  the  old  Viking  will  like  you  none 
the  less  for  having  shown  a  touch  of  his  own  temper. 
Go  to  him,  I  say,  and  tell  him  that  I  sent  you." 

"  But  he  is  fighting  the  Scots  beyond  the  Forth." 

"  So  much  the  better.  There  will  be  good  work 
for  you  to  do.  And  Gilbert  of  Ghent  is  up  there  too, 
I  hear,  trying  to  settle  himself  among  the  Scots.  He 
is  your  mother's  kinsman  ;  and  as  for  your  being  an 
outlaw,  he  wants  hard  hitters  and  hard  riders,  and 
all  is  fish  that  comes  to  his  net.  Find  him  out  too, 
and  tell  him  that  I  sent  you." 

'You  are  a  good  old  uncle,"  said  Hereward. 
; '  Why  were  you  not  a  soldier  ?  " 

Brand  laughed  somewhat  sadly. 

"  If  I  had  been  a  soldier,  lad,  where  wouldst  thou 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  49 

have  looked  for  a  friend  this  day  ?  No.  God  has 
done  what  was  merciful  with  me  and  my  sins.  May 
He  do  the  same  by  thee  and  thine." 

Hereward  made  an  impatient  movement.  He  dis- 
liked any  word  which  seemed  likely  to  soften  his  own 
hardness  of  heart.  But  he  kissed  his  uncle  lovingly 
on  both  cheeks. 

"  By  the  bye,  Martin — any  message  from  my  lady 
mother?" 

"  None  ! " 

"Quite  right  and  pious.  I  am  an  enemy  to  Holy 
Church  and  therefore  to  her.  Good-night,  uncle." 

"  Hey  ?  "  asked  Brand  ;  "  where  is  that  footman — 
Martin  you  call  him  ?  I  must  have  another  word 
with  him." 

But  Martin  was  gone. 

' '  No  matter.  I  shall  question  him  sharply  enough 
to-morrow,  I  warrant." 

And  Hereward  went  out  to  his  lodging :  while  the 
good  Prior  went  to  his  prayers. 

When  Hereward  entered  his  room,  Martin  started 
out  of  the  darkness,  and  followed  him  in.  Then  he 
shut  to  the  door  carefully,  and  pulled  out  a  bag. 

4 '  There  was  no  message  from  my  lady  :  but  there 
was  this." 

The  bag  was  full  of  money. 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  of  this  before  ?  " 

"  Never  show  money  before  a  monk." 

"  Villain  !  would  you  mistrust  my  uncle  ?  " 

"  Any  man  with  a  shaven  crown.  St.  Peter  is  his 
God,  and  Lord,  and  conscience  ;  and  if  he  saw  but  the 
shine  of  a  penny,  for  St.  Peter  he  would  want  it." 

"And  he  shall  have  it,"  quoth  Hereward  ;  and  flung 
out  of  the  room,  and  into  his  uncle's. 

"  Uncle,  I  have  money.  I  am  come  to  pay  back 
what  I  took  from  the  Steward,  and  as  much  more 
into  the  bargain."  And  he  told  out  eight-and-thirty 
pieces. 


5o  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE 

"Thank  God  and  all  His  saints!"  cried  Brand, 
weeping-  abundantly  for  joy ;  for  he  had  acquired, 
by  long-  devotion,  the  donum  lachrymarum — that 
lachrymose  and  somewhat  hysterical  temperament 
common  among  pious  monks,  and  held  to  be  a  mark 
of  grace. 

"  Blessed  St.  Peter,  thou  art  repaid  ;  and  thou  wilt 
be  merciful." 

Brand  believed,  in  common  with  all  monks  then, 
that  Hereward  had  robbed,  not  merely  the  Abbey  of 
Peterborough,  but,  what  was  more,  St.  Peter  himself  ; 
thereby  converting-  into*  an  implacable  and  internecine 
foe  the  chief  of  the  Apostles,  the  rock  on  which  was 
founded  the  whole  Church. 

"Now,  uncle,"  said  Hereward,  "do  me  one  g-ood 
deed  in  return.  Promise  me  that,  if  you  can  help  it, 
none  of  my  poor  housecarles  shall  suffer  for  my  sins.  I 
led  them  into  trouble.  I  am  punished.  I  have  made 
restitution — at  least  to  St.  Peter.  See  that  my  father 
and  mother,  if  they  be  the  Christians  they  call  them- 
selves, forgive  and  forg-et  all  offences  except  mine." 

"  I  will ;  so  help  me  all  saints  and  our  Lord.  Oh, 
my  boy,  my  boy,  thou  shouldst  have  been  a  king's 
thane,  and  not  an  outlaw  !  " 

And  he  hurried  off  with  the  news  to  the  Abbot. 

When  Hereward  returned  to  his  room,  Martin  was 
g-one. 

"  Farewell,  good  men  of  Peterborough,"  said 
Hereward,  as  he  leaped  into  the  saddle  next  morn- 
ing. "  I  had  made  a  vow  ag-ainst  you,  and  came  to 
try  you,  and  see  whether  you  would  force  me  to  fulfil 
it  or  not.  But  you  have  been  so  kind  that  I  have 
half  repented  thereof ;  and  the  evil  shall  not  come  in 
the  days  of  Abbot  Leofric,  nor  of  Brand  the  Prior, 
though  it  may  come  in  the  days  of  Herluin  the 
Steward,  if  he  live  long  enough." 

"What  meanest  thou,  incarnate  fiend,  only  fit  to 
worship  Thor  and  Odin  ?  "  asked  Brand. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  51 

"That  I  would  burn  Goldenborough,  and  Herluin 
the  Steward  within  it,  ere  1  die.  I  fear  I  shall  do  it : 
I  fear  I  must  do  it.  Ten  years  ago  come  Lammas, 
Herluin  bade  light  the  peat-stack  under  me.  Do  you 
recollect  ?  " 

"  And  so  he  did,  the  hound  !  "  quoth  Brand.  "  I 
had  forgotten  that." 

' '  Little  Hereward  never  forgets  foe  or  friend. 
Ever  since,  on  Lammas  night — hold  still,  horse  ! — I 
dream  of  fire  and  flame,  and  of  Goldenborough  in  the 
glare  of  it.  If  it  is  written  in  the  big  book,  happen  it 
must ;  if  not,  so  much  the  better  for  Goldenborough, 
for  it  is  a  pretty  place,  and  honest  Englishmen  in  it. 
Only  see  that  there  be  not  too  many  Frenchmen  crept 
in  when  I  come  back,  beside  our  French  friend 
Herluin ;  and  see,  too,  that  there  be  not  a  peat-stack 
handy  at  the  Bolldyke-gate — a  word  is  enough  to  wise 
men  like  you.  Good-bye  ! " 

"  God  help  thee,  thou  sinful  boy  !  "  said  the  Abbot. 

"Hereward,  Hereward!  Come  back!"  cried 
Brand. 

But  the  boy  had  spurred  his  horse  through  the 
gateway,  and  was  far  down  the  road. 

"  Leofric,  my  friend,"  said  Brand  sadly,  "  this  is  my 
sin,  and  no  man's  else.  And  heavy  penance  will  I  do 
for  it,  till  that  lad  returns  in  peace." 

"Your  sin?" 

"  Mine,  Abbot.  I  persuaded  his  mother  to  send  him 
hither  to  be  a  monk.  Alas  !  alas  !  How  long  will  men 
try  to  be  wiser  than  Him  who  maketh  men  ?  " 

"I  do  not  understand  thee,"  quoth  the  Abbot. 
And  no  more  he  did. 

It  was  four  o'clock  on  a  May  morning  when 
Hereward  set  out  to  see  the  world,  with  good  armour 
on  his  back,  good  weapon  by  his  side,  good  hr-.rse 
between  his  knees,  and  —  rare  luxury  in  rViose 
penniless,  though  otherwise  plentiful  days  —  good 
money  in  his  purse.  What  could  a  lad  of  eighteen 


5a  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

want  more,  who  under  the  harsh  family  rule  of  those 
times  had  known  nothing  of  a  father's,  and  but  too 
little  of  a  mother's,  love  ?  He  rode  away  westward, 
avoiding,  of  course,  Kesteven  and  Bourne.  Through 
Milton  woods  he  rode,  and  lingered  but  one  moment, 
as  he  crossed  the  King  Street  at  Castor  Hauglands, 
to  glance  up  the  straight  Roman  road  which  led 
toward  his  home.  That  led  to  the  old  world.  He 
was  going  to  the  new  ;  and  he  pricked  his  horse  gaily 
on  through  Bainton  woods,  struck  the  Ermine  Street 
on  Southorpe  Heath,  and  so  on  toward  the  Welland, 
little  dreaming  that  on  those  open  wolds  a  palace 
would  one  day  arise,  beside  which  King  Edward's 
new  Hall  at  Westminster  would  show  but  as  a 
tythingbarn  ;  and  that  the  great  patriot  who  would 
build  that  palace  would  own,  as  his  birthplace,  the 
very  home  from  which  Hereward  fled  that  day. 

Over  the  Welland  to  Brig  Casterton,  where  Dick 
Turpin  crossed  in  after  times,  like  him  avoiding 
Stamford  town ;  and  then  up  the  Ermine  Street, 
through  primeval  glades  of  mighty  oak  and  ash  with 
holly  and  thorn  beneath,  swarming  with  game,  which 
was  as  highly  preserved  then  as  now,  under  Canute's 
severe  forest  laws.  The  yellow  roes  stood  and  stared 
at  him  knee-deep  in  the  young  fern  ;  the  pheasant 
called  his  hens  out  to  feed  in  the  dewy  grass  ;  the 
blackbird  and  thrush  sang  out  from  every  bough  ;  the 
»wood-lark  trilled  above  the  high  oak  tops,  and  sank 
down  on  them  as  his  song  sank  down.  And  Here- 
ward  rode  on,  rejoicing  in  it  all.  It  was  a  fine  world 
in  the  Bruneswald.  What  was  it  then  outside  ?  Not 
to  him,  as  to  us,  a  world  circular,  round,  circum- 
scribed, mapped,  botanised,  zoologised  ;  a  tiny  planet 
about  which  everybody  knows,  or  thinks  they  know, 
everything ;  but  a  world  infinite,  magical,  super- 
natural— because  unknown  ;  a  vast  flat  plain  reach- 
ing no  one  knew  whence  or  where,  save  that  the 
mountains  stood  on  the  four  corners  thereof  to  keep 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  53 

it  steady,  and  the  four  winds  of  heaven  blew  out  of 
them ;  and  in  the  centre,  which  was  to  him  the 
Bruneswald,  such  things  as  he  saw :  but  beyond, 
things  unspeakable, — dragons,  giants,  rocs,  ores, 
witch-whales,  griffins,  chimeras,  satyrs,  enchanters, 
Paynims,  Saracen  Emirs  and  Sultans,  Kaisers  of 
Constantinople,  Kaisers  of  Ind  and  of  Cathay,  and 
beyond  them  again  of  lands  as  yet  unknown.  At  the 
very  least  he  could  go  to  Brittany,  to  the  forest  of 
Brocheliaunde,  where  (so  all  men  said)  fairies  might 
be  seen  bathing  in  the  fountains,  and  possibly  be 
won  and  wedded  by  a  bold  and  dexterous  knight, 
after  the  fashion  of  Sir  Gruelan.1  What  was  there 
not  to  be  seen  and  conquered  ?  Where  would  he  go  ? 
Where  would  he  not  go  ?  For  the  spirit  of  Odin  the 
Goer,  the  spirit  which  has  sent  his  children  round 
the  world,  was  strong  within  him.  He  would  go  to 
Ireland,  to  the  Ostmen,  or  Irish  Danes,  at  Dublin, 
Waterford,  or  Cork,  and  marry  some  beautiful  Irish 
Princess  with  gray  eyes,  and  raven  locks,  and  saffron 
smock,  and  great  gold  bracelets  from  her  native  hills. 
No ;  he  would  go  off  to  the  Orkneys,  and  join  Bruce 
and  Ranald,  and  the  Vikings  of  the  northern  seas,  and 
all  the  hot  blood  which  had  found  even  Norway  too 
hot  to  hold  it ;  he  would  sail  through  witch-whales 
and  icebergs  to  Iceland  and  Greenland,  and  the  sunny 
lands  which  they  said  lay  even  beyond,  across  the  all 
but  unknown  ocean.  Or  he  would  go  up  the  Baltic 
to  the  Jomsburg  Vikings,  and  fight  against  Lett  and 
Esthonian  heathen,  and  pierce  inland,  perhaps,  through 
Puleyn  and  the  bison  forests,  to  the  land  from  whence 
came  the  magic  swords  and  the  old  Persian  coins 
which  he  had  seen  so  often  in  the  halls  of  his  fore- 
fathers. No  ;  he  would  go  South,  to  the  land  of  sun 

1  Wace,  author  of  the  Roman  de  Rou,  went  to  Brittany  a  generation  later,  to 
see  those  same  fairies  :  but  had  no  sport ;  and  sang : 

Fol  i  alai,  fol  m'en  revins ; 

Folie  qui-.  por  fol  me  tin*. 


54  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

and  wine  ;  and  see  the  magicians  of  Cordova  and 
Seville;  and  beard  Mussulman  hounds  worshipping 
their  Mahomets  ;  and  perhaps  bring  home  an  Emir's 
daughter — 

With  more  gay  gold  about  her  middle, 
Than  would  buy  half  Northumberlee. 

Or  he  would  go  up  the  Straits,  and  on  to  Con- 
stantinople and  the  great  Kaiser  of  the  Greeks,  and 
join  the  Varanger  Guard,  and  perhaps,  like  Harold 
Hardraade  in  his  own  days,  after  being  cast  to  the 
lion  for  carrying  off  a  fair  Greek  lady,  tear  out 
the  monster's  tongue  with  his  own  hands,  and  show 
the  Easterns  what  a  Viking's  son  could  do.  And  as 
he  dreamed  of  the  infinite  world  and  its  infinite 
wonders,  the  enchanters  he  might  meet,  the  jewels 
he  might  find,  the  adventures  he  might  essay,  he  held 
that  he  must  succeed  in  all,  with  hope,  and  wit,  and 
a  strong  arm  ;  and  forgot  altogether  that,  mixed  up 
with  the  cosmogony  of  an  infinite  flat  plain  called  the 
Earth,  there  was  joined  also  the  belief  in  a  flat  roof 
above  called  Heaven,  on  which  (seen  at  times  in 
visions  through  clouds  and  stars)  sat  saints,  angels, 
and  archangels,  for  ever  more  harping  on  their  golden 
harps,  and  knowing  neither  vanity  nor  vexation  of 
spirit,  lust  nor  pride,  murder  nor  war: — and  under- 
neath a  floor,  the  name  whereof  was  Hell ;  the  mouths 
whereof  (as  all  men  knew)  might  be  seen  on  Hecla, 
Etna,  and  Stromboli ;  and  the  fiends  heard  within, 
tormenting,  amid  fire,  and  smoke,  and  clanking 
chains,  the  souls  of  the  endlessly  lost. 

As  he  rode  on,  slowly  though  cheerfully,  as  a  man 
who  will  not  tire  his  horse  at  the  beginning  of  a  long 
day's  journey,  and  knows  not  where  he  shall  pass  the 
night,  he  was  aware  of  a  man  on  foot  coming  up 
behind  him  at  a  slow,  steady,  loping,  wolf-like  trot, 
which  in  spite  of  its  slowness  gained  ground  on  him 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  55 

so  fast,  that  he  saw  at  once  that  the  man  could  be  no 
common  runner. 

The  man  came  up  ;  and  behold,  he  was  none  other 
than  Martin  Lightfoot. 

"What!  art  thou  here?"  asked  Here  ward 
suspiciously,  and  half  cross  at  seeing1  any  visitor 
from  the  old  world  which  he  had  just  cast  off. 
'*  How  gottest  thou  out  of  St.  Peter's  last  night  ?  " 

Martin's  tongue  was  hanging  out  of  his  mouth  like 
a  running  hound's  :  but  he  seemed,  like  a  hound,  to 
perspire  through  his  mouth  ;  for  he  answered  without 
the  least  sign  of  distress,  without  even  pulling  in  his 
tongue. 

"Over  the  wall,  the  moment  the  Prior's  back  was 
turned.  I  was  not  going  to  wait  till  I  was  chained  up 
in  some  rat's  hole  with  a  half-hundred  of  iron  on  my 
leg,  and  flogged  till  I  confessed  that  I  was  what  I  am 
knot — a  runaway  monk." 

"And  why  art  here?" 

"  Because  I  am  going  with  you." 
,    "Going  with  me?"  said  Hereward ;  "what  can  I 
do  for  thee  ?  " 

"  I  can  do  for  you,"  said  Martin. 
i    "What?" 

"Groom  your  horse,  wash  your   shirt,  clean  your 
Weapons,  find  your  inn,  fight  your  enemies,  cheat  your 
Jfriends — anything  and  everything.     You  are  going  to 
see  the  world.     I  am  going  with  you." 
f   "  Thou  canst  be  my  servant  ?    A  right  slippery  one, 
I  expect,"  said  Hereward,  looking  down  on  him  with 
some  suspicion. 

"Some  are  not  the  rogues  they  seem.  I  can  keep 
my  secrets  and  yours  too." 

"Before  I  can  trust  thee  with  my  secrets,  I  shall 
expect  to  know  some  of  thine,"  said  Hereward. 

Martin  Lightfoot  looked  up  with  a  cunning  smile.  "A 
man  can  always  know  his  master's  secrets  if  he  likes. 
But  that  is  no  reason  a  master  should  know  his  man's.'* 


56  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE 

"  Thou  shall  tell  me  thine,  man,  or  I  shall  ride  off 
and  leave  thee." 

"  Not  so  easy,  my  lord.  Where  that  heavy  horse 
can  go,  Martin  Lightfoot  can  follow.  But  I  will  tell 
you  one  secret,  which  I  never  told  to  living  man. 
I  can  read  and  write  like  any  clerk." 

"  Thou  read  and  write  ?  " 

"Ay,  good  Latin  enough,  and  French,  and  Irish 
too,  what  is  more.  And  now,  because  I  love  you, 
and  because  you  I  will  serve,  willy  nilly,  I  will  tell 
you  all  the  secrets  I  have,  as  long  as  my  breath 
lasts,  for  my  tongue  is  rather  stiff  after  that  long 
story  about  the  bell-wether.  I  was  born  in  Ireland, 
in  Waterford  town.  My  mother  was  an  English  slave, 
one  of  those  that  Earl  Godwin's  wife — not  this  one 
that  is  now,  Gyda,  but  the  old  one — used  to  sell  out 
of  England  by  the  score,  tied  together  with  ropes, 
boys  and  girls  from  Bristol  town.1  Her  master,  my 
father  that  was  (I  shall  know  him  again),  got  tired 
of  her,  and  wanted  to  give  her  away  to  one  of  his 
kernes.  She  would  not  have  that ;  so  he  hung  her 
up  hand  and  foot,  and  beat  her  that  she  died.  There 
was  an  abbey  hard  by,  and  the  Church  laid  on  him 
a  penance — all  that  they  dared  get  out  of  him — that 
he  should  give  me  to  the  monks,  being  then  a  seven- 
years'  boy.  Well,  I  grew  up  in  that  abbey ;  they 
taught  me  my  fa  fa  mi  fa :  but  I  liked  better  conning 
ballads  and  hearing  stories  of  ghosts  and  enchanters, 
such  as  1  used  to  tell  you.  I'll  tell  you  plenty  more 
whenever  you're  tired.  Then  they  made  me  work  ; 
and  that  I  never  could  abide  at  all.  Then  they  beat 
me  every  day  ;  and  that  I  could  abide  still  less  :  but 
always  I  stuck  to  my  book,  for  one  thing  I  saw — 
that  learning  is  power,  my  lord  ;  and  that  the  reason 
why  the  monks  are  masters  of  the  lands  is,  they  are 

1  I   adopt   William    of   Malmesbury's   old   story,   though    there  it  no  good 
authority  for  it.     Even  if  a  calumny,  it  fits  the  mouth  of  an  adherent 
house 
days. 


autnonty  tor  it.     Jiven  it  a  calumny,  it  hts  the  mouth  of  an  adherent  of  the 
house  ot  Leofric :  and  an  English  slave-trade  certainly  was  carried  on  in  those 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  57 

scholars,  and  you  fighting  men  are  none.  Then  I 
fell  in  love  (as  young  blood  will)  with  an  Irish  lass, 
when  I  was  full  seventeen  years  old  ;  and  when  they 
found  out  that,  they  held  me  down  on  the  floor  and 
beat  me  till  I  was  well-nigh  dead.  They  put  me  in 
prison  for  a  month ;  and  between  bread-and-water 
and  darkness  I  went  nigh  foolish.  They  let  me  out, 
thinking  I  could  do  no  more  harm  to  man  or  lass  ; 
and  when  I  found  out  how  profitable  folly  was,  foolish 
I  remained,  at  least  as  foolish  as  seemed  good  to  me. 
But  one  night  I  got  into  the  abbey  church,  stole  there- 
from that  which  I  have  with  me  now,  and  which  shall 
serve  you  and  me  in  good  stead  yet — out  and  away 
aboard  a  ship  among  the  buscarles,  and  off  into  the 
Norway  sea.  But  after  a  voyage  or  two,  so  it  befell, 
I  was  wrecked  in  the  Wash  by  Botulfston  Deeps,  and 
begging  my  way  inland,  met  with  your  father,  and 
took  service  with  him,  as  I  have  taken  service  now 
with  you." 

"  Now,  what  has  made  thee  take  service  with  me  ?  " 

"  Because  you  are  you." 

"Give  me  none  of  thy  parables  and  dark  sayings, 
but  speak  out  like  a  man.  What  canst  see  in  me 
that  thou  shouldst  share  an  outlaw's  fortune  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  had  run  away  from  a  monastery  ;  so  had  you. 
I  hated  the  monks ;  so  did  you.  I  liked  to  tell  stories 
— since  I  found  good  to  shut  my  mouth  I  tell  them  to 
myself  all  day  long,  sometimes  all  night  too.  When 
I  found  out  you  liked  to  hear  them,  I  loved  you  all 
the  more.  Then  they  told  me  not  to  speak  to  you  ; 
I  held  my  tongue.  I  bided  my  time.  I  knew  you 
would  be  outlawed  some  day.  I  knew  you  would 
turn  Viking  and  kemperyman,  and  kill  giants  and 
enchanters,  and  win  yourself  honour  and  glory  ;  and 
I  knew  I  should  have  my  share  in  it.  I  knew  you 
would  need  me  some  day  ;  and  you  need  me  now, 
and  here  I  am ;  and  if  you  try  to  cut  me  down  with 
your  sword,  I  will  dodge  you,  and  follow  you,  and 


S8  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

dodge  you  again,  till  I  force  you  to  let  me  be  your 
man.  I  never  loved  you  as  I  do  now.  You  let  me 
take  that  letter  safe,  like  a  true  hero.  You  let  your- 
self be  outlawed,  like  a  true  hero.  You  made  up  your 
mind  to  see  the  world,  like  a  true  hero.  You  are  the 
master  for  me,  and  with  you  I  will  live  and  die.  And 
now  I  can  talk  no  more." 

"And  with  me  thou  shalt  live  and  die,"  said 
Hereward,  pulling  up  his  horse,  and  frankly  holding 
out  his  hand  to  his  new  friend. 

Martin  Lightfoot  took  his  hand,  kissed  it,  licked  it 
almost,  as  a  dog  would  have  done.  "  I  am  your  man," 
he  said,  "Amen;  and  true  man  I  will  prove  to  you, 
if  you  will  prove  true  to  me."  And  he  dropped  quietly 
back  behind  Hereward's  horse,  as  if  the  business  of 
his  life  was  settled,  and  his  mind  utterly  at  rest. 

"There  is  one  more  likeness  between  us,"  said 
Hereward,  after  a  few  minutes'  thought.  "  If  I  have 
robbed  a  church,  thou  hast  robbed  one  too.  What 
is  this  precious  spoil  which  is  to  serve  me  and  thee 
in  such  mighty  stead  ?  " 

Martin  drew  from  inside  his  shirt  and  under  his 
waistband  a  small  battle-axe,  and  handed  it  up  to 
Hereward.  It  was  a  tool  the  like  of  which  in  shape 
Hereward  had  seldom  seen,  and  never  its  equal  in 
beauty.  The  handle  was  some  fifteen  inches  long, 
made  of  thick  strips  of  black  whalebone,  curiously 
bound  with  silver,  and  butted  with  narwhal  ivory. 
This  handle  was  evidently  the  work  of  some  cunning 
Norseman  of  old.  But  who  had  been  the  maker  of 
the  blade?  It  was  some  eight  inches  long,  with  a 
sharp  edge  on  one  side,  a  sharp  crooked  pick  on 
the  other:  of  the  finest  steel,  inlaid  with  strange 
characters  in  gold,  the  work  probably  of  some 
Circassian,  Tartar,  or  Persian;  such  a  battle-axe  as 
Rustum  or  Zohrab  may  have  wielded  in  fight  upon 
the  banks  of  Oxus ;  one  of  those  magic  weapons, 
brought,  men  knew  not  how,  out  of  the  magic  East, 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  59 

which  were  hereditary  in  many  a  Norse  family,  and 
sung  of  in  many  a  Norse  saga. 

"Look  at  it,"  said  Martin  Lightfoot.  "There  is 
magic  in  it.  It  must  bring  us  luck.  Whoever  holds 
that  must  kill  his  man.  It  will  pick  a  lock  of  steel. 
It  will  crack  a  mail  corslet  as  a  nut-hatch  cracks  a 
nut.  It  will  hew  a  lance  in  two  at  a.  single  blow. 
Devils  and  spirits  forged  it — I  know  that;  Virgilius 
the  Enchanter,  perhaps,  or  Solomon  the  Great,  or 
whosoever's  name  is  on  it,  graven  there  in  letters  of 
gold.  Handle  it,  feel  its  balance ;  but  no — do  not 
handle  it  too  much.  There  is  a  devil  in  it,  who  would 
make  you  kill  me.  Whenever  I  play  with  it  I  long 
to  kill  a  man.  It  would  be  so  easy — so  easy.  Give 
it  me  back,  my  lord,  give  it  me  back,  lest  the  devil 
come  through  the  handle  into  your  palm,  and  possess 
you." 

Here  ward  laughed,  and  gave  him  back  his  battle- 
axe.  But  he  had  hardly  less  doubt  of  the  magic 
virtues  of  such  a  blade  than  had  Martin  himself. 

"  Magical  or  not,  thou  wilt  not  have  to  hit  a  man 
twice  with  that,  Martin,  my  lad.  So  we  two  outlaws 
are  both  well  armed  ;  and  having  neither  wife  nor 
child,  land  nor  beeves  to  lose,  ought  to  be  a  match 
for  any  six  honest  men  who  may  have  a  grudge  against 
us,  and  yet  have  sound  reasons  at  home  for  running 
'away." 

And  so  those  two  went  northward  through  the 
green  Bruneswald,  and  northward  through  merry 
Sherwood,  and  were  not  seen  in  that  land  again  for 
many  a  year. 


6o  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

CHAPTER  II. 

HOW   HEREWARD   SLEW   THE   BEAR.1 

OF  Hereward's  doings  for  the  next  few  months  nought 
is  known.  He  may  very  likely  have  joined  Siward  in 
the  Scotch  war.  He  may  have  looked,  wondering, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  upon  the  bones  of  the  old 
world,  where  they  rise  at  Dunkeld  out  of  the  lowlands 
of  the  Tay  ;  and  have  trembled  lest  the  black  crags  of 
Birnam  should  topple  on  his  head  with  all  their  pines. 
He  may  have  marched  down  from  that  famous  leaguet 
with  the  Gospatrics  and  Dolfins,  and  the  rest  of  the 
kindred  of  Crinan,  and  of  Siward,  of  the  murdered 
Duncan,  and  the  outraged  Sibilla.  He  may  have 
helped  himself  to  bring  Birnam  Wood  to  Dunsinane, 
on  the  day  of  the  Seven  Sleepers,  and  heard  Siward, 
when  his  son  Asbiorn's  corpse  was  carried  into  camp,2 
ask  only,  "Has  he  all  his  wounds  in  front?"  He 
may  have  seen  old  Siward,  after  Macbeth's  defeat 
(not  death,  as  Shakespeare  relates  the  story),  go  back 
to  Northumbria  "with  such  booty  as  no  man  had 
obtained  before," — a  proof — if  the  fact  be  fact — that 
the  Scotch  lowlands  were  not,  in  the  eleventh  century, 

T  This  story  of  the  bear  is  likely  not  to  be  a  myth,  but  among  the  most 
authentic  of  Hereward's  famous  deeds.     So  likewise  is  the  story  of  the  Cornish 


again"  ;  and  more  wise  than  the  average  of  monk  writers,  kept  to  "  the  crude 
matter,  too  little  composite  and  ornate  by  the  care  of  any  trained  intellect,  or  by 
dialectic  and  rhetoric  enigmas."  For  "always  he  was  deluded  by  vain  hope,  or 
from  the  beginning,  by  folks  saying  that  in  this  place  and  that  is  a  great  book 
about  the  same  man  s  deeds,"  which  book  never  appearing,  he  seems  to  have 


like  him,  wandering  sadly  in  his  chronology.  I  have  retained  every  detail,  I 
believe,  which  he  gives  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  story,  as  valuable  and  all  but 
unique  sketches  of  the  manners  of  the  eleventh  century. 

-  Shakespeare  calls  his  son  "  young  Siward."    He,  too,  was  slain  in  the  battle : 
but  he  was  old  Siward's  nephew. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  61 

the  poor  and  barbarous  country  which  some  have 
reported  them  to  have  been. 

All  this  is  not  only  possible,  but  probable  enough, 
the  dates  considered  :  the  chroniclers,  however,  are 
silent.  They  only  say  that  Hereward  was  in  those 
days  beyond  Northumberland  with  Gilbert  of  Ghent. 

Gisebert,  Gislebert,  Gilbert,  Guibert,  Goisbricht,  of 
Ghent,1  who  afterwards  owned,  by  chance  of  war, 
many  a  fair  manor  in  Lincolnshire  and  elsewhere,  was 
one  of  those  valiant  Flemings  who  settled  along  the 
east  and  north-east  coast  of  Scotland  in  the  eleventh 
century.  They  fought  with  the  Celtic  Maolmors,  and 
then  married  with  their  daughters  ;  got  to  themselves 
lands  by  the  title-deed  of  the  sword ;  and  so  became 
— the  famous  Freskin  the  Fleming  especially — the 
ancestors  of  the  finest  aristocracy,  both  physically 
and  intellectually,  in  the  world.  They  had  their  con- 
nections, moreover,  with  the  Norman  court  of  Rouen, 
through  the  Duchess  Matilda,  daughter  of  their  old 
Seigneur,  Baldwin  Marquis  of  Flanders ;  their  con- 
nections, too,  with  the  English  Court,  through 
Countess  Judith,  wife  of  Earl  Tosti  Godwinsson, 
another  daughter  of  Baldwin's.  Their  friendship  was 
sought,  their  enmity  feared,  far  and  wide  through- 
out the  north.  They  seem  to  have  been,  with  the 
instinct  of  true  Flemings,  civilisers,  and  cultivators, 
and  traders,  as  well  as  conquerors;  they  were  in 
those  very  days  bringing  to  order  and  tillage  the  rich 
lands  of  the  north-east,  from  the  Firth  of  Moray  to 
that  of  Forth  ;  and  forming  a  rampart  for  Scotland 
against  the  invasions  of  Sweyn,  Hardraade,  and 
all  the  wild  Vikings  of  the  northern  seas. 

Amongst  them,  in  those  days,  Gilbert  of  Ghent 
seems  to  have  been  a  notable  personage,  to  judge 

1  Our  English  genealogists  make  him  son  of  Baldwin  of  Mons  and  Ricbilda 
of  Hainault,  which  is  a  manifest  error.  Mr.  Forester,  in  his  learned  notes  to 
Ordericus  Vitalis,  says  that  he  was  son  of  Ralf,  the  Lord  of  Alost ;  and  confirms 
the  story  that  his  eldest  son  died  prematurely.  He  may  have  been  nevertheless 
a  n«ar  relation  of  the  Marquis  Baldwin. 


6a  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

from  the  great  house  which  he  kept,  and  the  "  milites 
tyrones,"  or  squires  in  training  for  the  honour  of 
knighthood,  who  fed  at  his  table.  Where  he  lived, 
the  chroniclers  report  not.  To  them  the  country 
"ultra  Northumbrian!,"  beyond  the  Forth,  was  as 
Russia  or  Cathay,  where 

Geographers  on  pathless  downs 
Put  elephants  for  want  of  towns. 

As  indeed  it  was  to  that  French  map-maker  who,  as 
late  as  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  (not 
having  been  to  Aberdeen  or  Elgin),  leaves  all  the 
country  north  of  the  Tay  a  blank,  with  the  inscrip- 
tion : — "  Terre  inculte  et  sauvage,  habitee  par  les 
Higlanders" 

Wherever  Gilbert  lived,  however,  he  heard  that 
Hereward  was  outlawed,  and  sent  for  him,  says  the 
story,1  having,  it  would  seem,  some  connection  with 
his  father.  And  there  he  lived,  doubtless  happily 
enough,  fighting  Celts  and  hunting-  deer,  so  that  as 
yet  the  pains  and  penalties  of  exile  did  not  press  very 
hardly  upon  him.  The  handsome,  petulant,  good- 
humoured  lad  had  become  in  a  few  weeks  the  darling 
of  Gilbert's  ladies,  and  the  envy  of  all  his  knights 
and  gentlemen.  Hereward  the  singer,  harp-player, 
dancer,  Hereward  the  rider  and  hunter,  was  in  all 
mouths :  but  he  himself  was  discontented  at  having 
as  yet  fallen  in  with  no  adventure  worthy  of  a  man  ; 
and  he  looked  curiously  and  longingly  at  the  menagerie 
of  wild  beasts  enclosed  in  strong  wooden  cages,  which 
Gilbert  kept  in  one  corner  of  the  great  courtyard,  not 
for  any  scientific  purposes,  but  to  try  with  them,  at 
Christmas,  Easter,  and  Whitsuntide,  the  mettle  of  the 
young  gentlemen  who  were  candidates  for  the  honour 
of  knighthood.  But  after  looking  over  the  bulls  and 

<  *  Richard  of  Ety  gives  as  the  reason — "pro  illo  misit:  filiolus  enim  erat  divitii 
iliius."  "  Filiolus  "  may  be  presumed  to  mean  Godson  in  the  vocabulary  of  that 
good  uionk ;  but  it  \»  not  dear  of  whom  be  speaks  as  "dives  iiie."  Possibly 
Gilbert  of  Ghent  was  godson  of  Hereward's  father. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  63 

stags,  wolves  and  bears,  Hereward  settled  it  in  his 
mind  that  there  was  none  worthy  of  his  steel,  save 
one  huge  white  bear,  whom  no  man  had  yet  dared  to 
face,  and  whom  Hereward,  indeed,  had  never  seen, 
hidden  as  he  was  all  day  within  the  old  oven-shaped 
Pict's  house  of  stone,  which  had  been  turned  into  his 
den.  There  was  a  mystery  about  the  uncanny  brute 
which  charmed  Hereward.  He  was  said  to  be  half 
human,  perhaps  wholly  human  ;  to  be  a  son  of  the 
Fairy  Bear,  near  kinsman,  if  not  brother,  uncle,  or 
cousin,  of  Siward  Digre  himself.  He  had,  like  his 
fairy  father,  iron  claws  ;  he  had  human  intellect,  and 
understood  human  speech,  and  the  arts  of  war, — at 
least  so  all  in  the  place  believed,  and  not  as  absurdly 
as  at  first  sight  seems. 

For  the  brown  bear,  and  much  more  the  white, 
was,  among  the  Northern  nations,  in  himself  a 
creature  magical  and  superhuman.  "He  is  God's 
dog,"  whispered  the  Lapp,  and  called  him  "  the 
old  man  in  the  fur  cloak,"  afraid  to  use  his  right 
name,  even  inside  the  tent,  for  fear  of  his  over- 
hearing and  avenging  the  insult.  "He  has  twelve 
men's  strength,  and  eleven  men's  wit,"  sang  the 
Norseman,  and  prided  himself  accordingly,  like  a  true 
Norseman,  on  outwitting  and  slaying  the  enchanted 
monster. 

Terrible  was  the  brown  bear :  but  more  terrible 
"the  white  sea-deer,"  as  the  Saxons  called  him  ;  the 
hound  of  Hrymir,  the  whale's  bane,  the  seal's  dread, 
the  rider  of  the  iceberg,  the  sailer  of  the  floe,  who 
ranged  for  his  prey  under  the  six  months'  night, 
lighted  by  Surtur's  fires,  even  to  the  gates  of  Muspel- 
heim.  To  slay  him  was  a  feat  worthy  of  Beowulfs 
self ;  and  the  greatest  wonder,  perhaps,  among  all  the 
wealth  of  Crowland,  was  the  twelve  white  bear-skins 
which  lay  before  the  altars,  the  gift  of  the  great 
Canute.  How  Gilbert  had  obtained  his  white  bear, 
and  why  he  kept  him  there  in  durance  vile,  was  a 


64  HERE  WARD  THE   WAKE. 

mystery  over  which  men  shook  their  heads.  Again 
and  again  Hereward  asked  his  host  to  let  him  try 
his  strength  against  the  monster  of  the  North.  Again 
and  again  the  shrieks  of  the  ladies,  and  Gilbert's  own 
pity  for  the  stripling  youth,  brought  a  refusal.  But 
Hereward  settled  it  in  his  heart,  nevertheless,  that 
somehow  or  other,  when  Christmas  time  came  round, 
he  would  extract  from  Gilbert,  drunk  or  sober,  leave 
to  fight  that  bear ;  and  then  either  make  himself  a 
name,  or  die  like  a  man. 

Meanwhile  Hereward  made  a  friend.  Among  all 
the  ladies  of  Gilbert's  household,  however  kind  they 
were  inclined  to  be  to  him,  he  took  a  fancy  only 
to  one — a  little  girl  of  ten  years  old.  Alftruda  was 
her  name.  He  liked  to  amuse  himself  with  this  child, 
without,  as  he  fancied,  any  danger  of  falling  in  love  ; 
for  already  his  dreams  of  love  were  of  the  highest  and 
most  fantastic  ;  and  an  Emir's  daughter,  or  a  Princess 
of  Constantinople,  were  the  very  lowest  game  at  which 
he  meant  to  fly.  Alftruda  was  beautiful  too,  exceed- 
ingly, and  precocious,  and,  it  may  be,  vain  enough  to 
repay  his  attentions  in  good  earnest.  Moreover  she 
was  English,  as  he  was,  and  royal  likewise  ;  a  relation 
of  Elfgiva,  daughter  of  Ethelred,  once  King  of 
England.  She,  as  all  know,  married  Uchtred,  Prince 
of  Northumberland,  the  grandfather  of  Gospatrick, 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  and  ancestor  of  all  the 
Dunbars.  Between  the  English  lad  then  and  the 
English  maiden  grew  up  in  a  few  weeks  an  innocent 
friendship,  which  had  almost  become  more  than  friend- 
ship, through  the  intervention  of  the  Fairy  Bear. 

For  as  Hereward  was  coming  in  one  afternoon  from 
hunting,  hawk  on  fist,  with  Martin  Lightfoot  trotting 
behind,  crane  and  heron,  duck  and  hare,  slung  over 
his  shoulder,  on  reaching  the  courtyard  gates  he  was 
aware  of  screams  and  shouts  within,  tumult  and  terror 
among  man  and  beast.  Hereward  tried  to  force  his 

1  See  note  at  end  of  chapter. 


HEREVVARD   THE   WAKE.  65 

horse  in  at  the  gate.  The  beast  stopped  and  turned, 
snorting"  with  fear ;  and  no  wonder  ;  for  in  the  midst 
of  the  courtyard  stood  the  Fairy  Bear ;  his  white 
mane  bristled  up  till  he  seemed  twice  as  big  as  any  of 
the  sober  brown  bears  which  Hereward  yet  had  seen  : 
his  long  snake  neck  and  cruel  visage  wreathing  about 
in  search  of  prey.  A  dead  horse,  Its  back  broken  by 
a  single  blow  of  the  paw,  and  two  or  three  writhing 
dogs,  showed  that  the  beast  had  turned  (like  too  many 
of  his  human  kindred  in  those  days)  "Berserker." 
The  courtyard  was  utterly  empty :  but  from  the 
ladies'  bower  came  shrieks  and  shouts,  not  only  of 
women  but  of  men ;  and  knocking  at  the  bower 
door,  adding  her  screams  to  those  inside,  was  a  little 
white  figure,  which  Hereward  recognised  as  Alftruda's. 
They  had  barricaded  themselves  inside,  leaving  the 
child  out ;  and  now  dared  not  open  the  door,  as  the 
bear  swung  and  rolled  towards  it,  looking  savagely 
right  and  left  for  a  fresh  victim. 

Hereward  leaped  from  his  horse,  and,  drawing  his 
sword,  rushed  forward  with  a  shout  which  made  the 
bear  turn  round. 

He  looked  once  back  at  the  child ;  then  round 
again  at  Hereward  :  and,  making  up  his  mind  to  take 
the  largest  morsel  first,  made  straight  at  him  with  a 
growl  which  there  was  no  mistaking. 

He  was  within  two  paces  ;  then  he  rose  on  his  hind 
legs,  a  head  and  shoulders  taller  than  Hereward,  and 
lifted  the  iron  talons  high  in  the  air.  Hereward  knew 
that  there  was  but  one  spot  at  which  to  strike  ;  and 
he  struck  true  and  strong,  before  the  iron  paw  could 
fall,  right  on  the  muzzle  of  the  monster. 

He  heard  the  dull  crash  of  the  steel ;  he  felt  the 
sword  jammed  tight.  He  shut  his  eyes  for  an  instant, 
fearing  lest,  as  in  dreams,  his  blow  had  come  to 
nought ;  lest  his  sword  had  turned  aside,  or  melted 
like  water  in  his  hand,  and  the  next  moment  would 
find  him  crushed  to  earth,  blinded  and  stunned. 
H.W.  c 


66  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Something-  tugged  at  his  sword.  He  opened  his  eyes, 
and  saw  the  huge  carcase  bend,  reel,  roll  slowly  over 
to  one  side,  dead,  tearing  out  of  his  hand  the  sword 
which  was  firmly  fixed  into  the  skull. 

Hereward  stood  awhile  staring  at  the  beast  like  a 
man  astonied  at  what  he  himself  had  done.  He  had 
had  his  first  adventure,  and  he  had  conquered.  He 
was  now  a  champion  in  his  own  right — a  hero  of  the 
heroes — one  who  might  take  rank,  if  he  went  on, 
beside  Beowulf,  Frotho,  Ragnar  Lodbrog,  or  Harald 
Hardraade.  He  had  done  this  deed.  What  was  there 
after  this  which  he  might  not  do  ?  And  he  stood  there 
in  the  fulness  of  his  pride,  defiant  of  earth  and  heaven, 
while  in  his  heart  arose  the  thought  of  that  old  Viking 
who  cried,  in  the  pride  of  his  godlessness,  "  I  never 
on  earth  met  him  whom  I  feared,  and  why  should  I 
fear  him  in  heaven  ?  If  I  met  Odin  I  would  fight  with 
Odin.  If  Odin  were  the  stronger  he  would  slay  me  : 
if  I  were  the  stronger  I  would  slay  him."  There  he 
stood,  staring,  and  dreaming  over  renown  to  come,  a 
true  pattern  of  the  half  savage  hero  of  those  rough 
times,  capable  of  all  vices  except  cowardice,  and 
capable,  too,  of  all  virtues  save  humility. 

"Do  you  not  see,"  said  Martin  Lightfoot's  voice 
close  by,  "that  there  is  a  fair  lady  trying  to  thank 
you,  while  you  are  so  rude  or  so  proud  that  you  will 
not  vouchsafe  her  one  look  ?  " 

It  was  true.  Little  Alftruda  had  been  clinging  to 
him  for  five  minutes  past.  He  took  the  child  up  in 
his  arms  and  kissed  her  with  pure  kisses,  which  for  a 
moment  softened  his  hard  heart;  then,  setting  her 
down,  he  turned  to  Martin. 

"  I  have  done  it,  Martin." 

"  Yes,  you  have  done  it ;  I  spied  you.  What  will 
the  old  folks  at  home  say  to  this  ?  " 

"What  care  I?" 

Martin  Lightfoot  shook  his  head,  and  drew  out  his 
knife. 


HEKEWARD   THE  WAKE.  67 

"  What  is  that  for?  "  said  Hereward. 

"  When  the  master  kills  the  game,  the  knave  can 
but  skin  it.  We  may  sleep  warm  under  this  fur  in 
many  a  cold  night  by  sea  and  moor." 

"  Nay,"  said  Hereward,  laughing;  "  when  the 
master  kills  the  game  he  must  first  carry  it  home. 
Let  us  take  him  and  set  him  up  against  the  bower 
door  there,  to  astonish  the  brave  knights  inside." 
And  stooping  down,  he  attempted  to  lift  the  huge 
carcass :  but  in  vain.  At  last,  with  Martin's  help,  he 
got  it  fairly  on  his  shoulders,  and  the  two  dragged 
their  burden  to  the  bower,  and  dashed  it  against  the 
door,  shouting  with  all  their  might  to  those  within  to 
open  it. 

Windows,  it  must  be  remembered,  were  in  those 
days  so  few  and  far  between,  that  the  folks  inside 
had  remained  quite  unaware  of  what  was  going  on 
without. 

The  door  was  opened  cautiously  enough;  and  out 
looked,  to  the  shame  of  knighthood  be  it  said,  two  or 
three  knights  who  had  taken  shelter  in  the  bower  with 
the  ladies.  Whatever  they  were  going  to  say  the 
ladies  forestalled,  for,  rushing  out  across  the  pros- 
trate bear,  they  overwhelmed  Hereward  with  praises, 
thanks,  and,  after  the  straightforward  custom  of  those 
days,  with  substantial  kisses. 

"  You  must  be  knighted  at  once,"  cried  they. 
"  You  have  knighted  yourself  by  that  single  blow." 

"  A  pity  then,"  said  one  of  the  knights  to  the  others, 
"  that  he  had  not  given  that  accolade  to  himself, 
instead  of  to  the  bear." 

"  Unless  some  means  are  found,"  said  another,  "  of 
taking  down  this  boy's  conceit,  life  will  soon  be  not 
worth  having  here." 

"  Either  he  must  take  ship,"  said  a  third,  "  and 
look  for  adventures  elsewhere,  or  I  must." 

Martin  Lightfoot  heard  those  words;  and  knowing 
that  envy  and  hatred,  like  all  other  vices  in  those 


68  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

rough-hewn  times,  were  apt  to  take  very  startling 
and  unmistakable  shapes,  kept  his  eye  accordingly 
on  those  three  knights. 

"  He  must  be  knighted — he  shall  be  knighted,  as 
soon  as  Sir  Gilbert  comes  home,"  said  all  the  ladies 
in  chorus. 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  think,"  said  Hereward,  with 
the  blundering  mock-humility  of  a  self-conceited  boy, 
"  that  I  had  done  anything  worthy  of  such  an  honour. 
I  hope  to  win  my  spurs  by  greater  feats  than  these. " 

A  burst  of  laughter  from  the  knights  and  gentlemen 
followed. 

"How  loud  the  young  cockerel  crows  after  his 
first  scuffle ! " 

"Hark  to  him!  What  will  he  do  next?  Eat  a 
dragon?  Fly  to  the  moon?  Marry  the  Sophy  of 
Egypt's  daughter  ?  " 

This  last  touched  Hereward  to  the  quick,  for  it  was 
just  what  he  thought  of  doing  ;  and  his  blood,  heated 
enough  already,  beat  quicker,  as  some  one  cried,  with 
the  evident  intent  of  picking  a  quarrel : 

"That  was  meant  for  us.  If  the  man  who  killed 
the  bear  has  not  deserved  knighthood,  what  must 
.we  have  deserved,  who  have  not  killed  him  ?  You 
understand  his  meaning,  gentlemen — do  not  forget 
it!" 

Hereward  looked  down,  and  setting  his  foot  on 
the  bear's  head,  wrenched  out  of  it  the  sword,  which 
he  had  left  till  now,  with  pardonable  pride,  fast  set 
in  the  skull. 

Martin  Lightfoot,  for  his  part,  drew  stealthily  from 
his  bosom  the  little  magic  axe,  keeping  his  eye  on 
the  brain-pan  of  the  last  speaker. 

The  lady  of  the  house  cried  "  Shame  !  "  and  ordered 
the  knights  away  with  haughty  words  and  gestures, 
which,  because  they  were  so  well  deserved,  only  made 
the  quarrel  more  deadly. 

Then  she  commanded  Hereward  to  sheathe  his  sword. 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  69 

He  did  so  ;  and,  turning  to  the  knights,  said  with 
all  courtesy,  "You  mistake  me,  sirs.  You  were 
where  brave  knights  should  be,  within  the  be- 
leaguered fortress,  defending  the  ladies.  Had  you 
remained  outside,  and  been  eaten  by  the  bear,  what 
must  have  befallen  them,  had  he  burst  open  the  door  ? 
As  for  this  little  lass,  whom  you  left  outside,  she  is 
too  young  to  requite  knight's  prowess  by  lady's  love  ; 
and  therefore  beneath  your  attention,  and  only  fit  for 
the  care  of  a  boy  like  me."  And  taking  up  Alftruda 
in  his  arms,  he  carried  her  in  and  disappeared. 

Who  now  but  Hereward  was  in  all  men's  mouths  ? 
The  minstrels  made  ballads  on  him  ;  the  lasses  sang 
his  praises  (says  the  chronicler)  as  they  danced  upon 
the  green.  Gilbert's  lady  would  need  give  him  the 
seat,  and  all  the  honours,  of  a  belted  knight,  though 
knight  he  was  none.  And  daily  and  weekly  the 
valiant  lad  grew  and  hardened  into  a  valiant  man, 
and  a  courteous  one  withal,  giving  no  offence  himself, 
and  not  over  ready  to  take  offence  at  other  men. 

The  knights  were  civil  enough  to  him,  the  ladies 
more  than  civil ;  he  hunted,  he  wrestled,  he  tilted  ; 
he  was  promised  a  chance  of  fighting  for  glory,  as 
soon  as  a  Highland  chief  should  declare  war  against 
Gilbert,  or  drive  off  his  cattle — an  event  which  (and 
small  blame  to  the  Highland  chiefs)  happened  every 
six  months. 

No  one  was  so  well  content  with  himself  as 
Hereward  ;  and  therefore  he  fancied  that  the  world 
must  be  equally  content  with  him  ;  and  he  was  much 
disconcerted  when  Martin  drew  him  aside  one  day, 
and  whispered : 

"  If  I  were  my  lord,  I  should  wear  a  mail  shirt 
under  my  coat  to-morrow  out  hunting." 

"What?" 

"The  arrow  that  can  go  through  a  deer's  blade- 
bone  can  go  through  a  man's." 

"  Who  should  harm  me  ?  " 


70  HERE  WARD   THE   WAKE. 

"Any  man  of  the  dozen  who  eat  at  the  same 
table." 

"What  have  I  done  to  them?  If  I  had  my  laugh 
at  them,  they  had  their  laugh  at  me  ;  and  we  are 
quits." 

"There  is  another  score,  my  lord,  which  you  have 
forg-otten,  and  that  is  all  on  your  side." 

"Eh?" 

"  You  killed  the  bear.  Do  you  expect  them  to 
forgive  you  that,  till  they  have  repaid  you  with 
interest  ?  " 

"Pish!" 

"You  do  not  want  for  wit,  my  lord,  Use  it,  and 
think.  What  right  has  a  little  boy  like  you  to  come 
here,  killing  bears  which  grown  men  cannot  kill  ? 
What  can  you  expect  but  just  punishment  for  your 
insolence — say,  a  lance  between  your  shoulders  while 
you  stoop  to  drink,  as  Sigfried  had  for  daring  to 
tame  Brunhild  ?  And  more,  what  right  have  you  to 
come  here,  and  so  win  the  hearts  of  the  ladies,  that 
the  lady  of  aH  the  ladies  should  say,  '  If  aught  happen 
to  my  poor  boy — and  he  cannot  live  long — I  wov.ld 
adopt  Hereward  for  my  own  son,  and  show  his 
mother  what  a  fool  some  folks  think  her.'  So,  my 
lord,  put  on  your  mail  shirt  to-morrow,  and  take  care 
of  narrow  ways,  and  sharp  corners.  For  to-morrow 
it  will  be  tried,  that  I  know,  before  my  Lord  Gilbert 
conies  back  from  the  Highlands:  but  by  whoir.i, 
I  know  not,  and  care  little,  seeing  that  there  are 
half  a  dozen  in  the  house  who  would  be  glad  enough 
of  the  chance. " 

Hereward  took  his  advice,  and  rode  out  with  three 
or  four  knights  the  next  morning  into  the  fir-forest ; 
not  afraid,  but  angry  and  sad.  He  was  not  yet  old 
enough  to  estimate  the  virulence  of  envy  ;  to  take 
ingratitude  and  treachery  for  granted.  He  was  to 
learn  the  lesson  then,  as  a  wholesome  cbastener  to 
the  pride  of  success.  He  was  to  learn  it  again  in 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  71 

later  years,  as  an  additional  bitterness  in  the  humilia- 
tion of  defeat ;  and  find  out  that  if  a  man  once  fall, 
or  seem  to  fall,  a  hundred  curs  spring  up  to  bark 
at  him,  who  dared  not  open  their  mouths  while  he 
was  on  his  legs. 

So  they  rode  into  the  forest,  and  parted,  each  with 
his  footman  and  his  dogs,  in  search  of  boar  and  deer  ; 
and  each  had  his  sport  without  meeting-  again  for 
some  two  hours  or  more. 

Hereward  and  Martin  came  at  last  to  a  narrow 
gully,  a  murderous  place  enough.  Huge  fir-trees 
roofed  it  in,  and  made  a  night  of  noon.  High  banks 
of  earth  and  great  boulders  walled  it  in  right  and  left 
for  twenty  feet  above.  The  track,  what  with  pack- 
horses'  feet,  and  what  with  the  wear  and  tear  of 
five  hundred  years'  rainfall,  was  a  rut  three  feet 
deep  and  two  feet  broad,  in  which  no  horse  could 
turn.  Any  other  day  Hereward  would  have  cantered 
down  it  with  merely  a  tightened  rein.  To-day  he 
turned  to  Martin,  and  said  : 

"  A  very  fit  and  proper  place  for  this  same  treason  : 
unless  thou  hast  been  drinking  beer  and  thinking  beer." 

But  Martin  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

A  pebble  thrown  from  the  right  sank  struck  him, 
and  he  looked  up.  Martin's  face  was  peering  through 
the  heather  overhead,  his  finger  on  his  lips.  Then 
he  pointed  cautiously,  first  up  the  pass,  then  down. 

Hereward  felt  that  his  sword  was  loose  in  the  sheath, 
and  then  griped  his  lance,  with  a  heart  beating,  but 
not  with  fear. 

The  next  moment  he  heard  the  rattle  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  behind  him  ;  looked  back  ;  and  saw  a  knight 
charging  desperately  down  the  gully,  his  bow  in  hand, 
and  arrow  drawn  to  the  head. 

To  turn  was  impossible.  To  stop,  even  to  walk 
on,  was  to  be  ridden  over  and  hurled  to  the  ground 
helplessly.  To  gain  the  mouth  of  the  gully,  and 
then  turn  on  his  pursuer,  was  his  only  chance.  For 


72  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

the  first  and  almost  the  last  time  in  his  life,  he  struck 
spurs  into  his  horse,  and  ran  away.  As  he  went,  an 
arrow  struck  him  sharply  in  the  back,  piercing  the 
corslet,  but  hardly  entering  the  flesh.  As  he  neared 
the  mouth,  two  other  knights  crashed  their  horses 
through  the  brushwood  from  right  and  left,  and 
stood  awaiting  him,  their  spears  ready  to  strike. 
He  was  caught  in  a  trap.  A  shield  might  have  saved 
him  ;  but  he  had  none. 

He  did  not  flinch.  Dropping  his  reins,  and  driving 
in  the  spurs  once  more,  he  met  them  in  full  shock. 
With  his  left  hand  he  thrust  aside  the  left-hand  lance, 
with  his  right  he  hurled  his  own  with  all  his  force 
at  the  right-hand  foe,  and  saw  it  pass  clean  through 
the  felon's  chest,  while  his  lance-point  dropped,  and 
passed  harmlessly. 

So  much  for  lances  in  front.  But  the  knight 
behind  ?  Would  not  his  sword  the  next  moment  be 
through  his  brain  ? 

There  was  a  clatter,  a  crash,  and  looking  back,  Here- 
ward  saw  horse  and  man  rolling  in  the  rut,  and  rolling 
with  them  Martin  Lightfoot.  He  had  already  pinned  the 
knight's  head  against  the  steep  bank,  and,  with  uplifted 
axe,  was  meditating  a  pick  at  his  face  which  would 
have  stopped  alike  his  love-making  and  his  fighting. 

"  Hold  thy  hand,"  shouted  Hereward.  "  Let  us  see 
who  he  is  ;  and  remember  that  he  is  at  least  a  knight." 

"  But  one  that  will  ride  no  more  to-day.  I  finished 
his  horse's  going  as  I  rolled  down  the  bank." 

It  was  true.  He  had  broken  the  poor  beast's  leg 
with  a  blow  of  the  axe,  and  they  had  to  kill  the 
horse  out  of  pity  ere  they  left. 

Martin  dragged  his  prisoner  forward. 

"You?"  cried  Hereward.  "And  I  saved  your 
life  three  days  ago  !  " 

The  knight  answered  nothing. 

"  You  will  have  to  walk  home.  Let  that  be  punish- 
ment enough  for  you."  And  he  turned. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  73 

"  He  will  have  to  ride  in  a  woodman's  cart,  if  he 
have  the  luck  to  find  one." 

The  third  knight  had  fled,  and  after  him  the  dead 
man's  horse.  Hereward  and  his  man  rode  home  in 
peace,  and  the  wounded  man,  after  trying-  vainly  to 
walk  a  mile  or  two,  fell  and  lay,  and  was  fain  to 
fulfil  Martin's  prophecy,  and  be  brought  home  in  a 
cart,  to  carry  for  years  after,  like  Sir  Lancelot,  the 
nickname  of  the  Chevalier  de  la  Charette. 

And  so  was  Hereward  avenged  of  his  enemies  ;  and 
began  to  win  for  himself  the  famous  soubriquet  ot 
"Wake";  the  Watcher,  whom  no  man  ever  took 
unawares.  Judicial,  even  private,  inquiry  into  the 
matter,  there  was  none.  That  gentlemen  should 
meet  in  the  forest,  try  to  commit  murder  on  each 
other's  bodies,  was  rather  too  common  a  mishap  to 
stir  up  more  than  an  extra  gossiping  among  the 
women,  and  an  extra  cursing  among  the  men  ;  and 
as  the  former  were  all  on  Hereward's  side,  his  plain 
story  was  taken  as  it  stood. 

"And  now,  fair  lady,"  said  Hereward  to  his  hostess, 
"  I  must  thank  you  for  your  hospitality,  and  bid  you 
farewell  for  ever  and  a  day." 

She  wept,  and  entreated  him  only  to  stay  till  her 
lord  came  back  :  but  Hereward  was  firm. 

"You,  lady,  and  your  good  lord  will  I  ever  love; 
and  at  your  service  my  sword  shall  ever  be  :  but  not 
here.  Ill  blood  I  will  not  make.  Among  traitors  I 
will  not  dwell.  I  have  killed  two  of  them,  and  shall 
have  to  kill  two  of  their  kinsmen  next,  and  then  two 
more,  till  you  have  no  knights  left ;  and  pity  that 
would  be.  No  ;  the  world  is  wide,  and  there  are  plenty 
of  good  fellows  in  it  who  will  welcome  me  without 
forcing  me  to  wear  mail  under  my  coat  out  hunting." 

And  he  armed  himself  cap-a-pi4,  and  rode  away. 
Great  was  the  weeping  in  the  bower,  and  great  the 
chuckling  in  the  hall :  but  never  saw  they  Hereward 
again  upon  the  Scottish  shore. 


74 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 


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HERE  WARD   THE    WAKE.  75 

NOTE. 

I  insert  on  the  opposite  page  the  pedigree  ofGospatric  and 
the  Dunbars,  with  many  thanks  to  the  gallant  Dunbar  to  whom 
I  owe  the  greater  part  thereof.  It  illustrates  that  connection 
between  the  royal  houses  of  Scotland  and  of  England  which 
influenced  so  much  the  course  of  the  Norman  Conquest.  The 
singular  name  Gospatric,  or  Cospatric,  is,  it  should  be  re- 
membered, remarkable,  as  perhaps  the  earliest  instance  of  an 
hereditary  name.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  Scottish  antiquaries 
can  as  yet  throw  no  light  on  its  etymology. 


CHAPTER   HI. 

HOW    HEREWARD    SUCCOURED    A    PRINCESS    OF 
CORNWALL. 

THE  next  place  in  which  Hereward  appeared  was  far 
away  on  the  South- West,  upon  the  Cornish  shore. 
He  went  into  port  on  board  a  merchant  ship  carrying 
wine,  and  intending- to  bring1  back  tin.  The  merchants 
had  told  him  of  one  "  Alef,"x  a  valiant  "regulus,"  or 
kinglet,  living  at  Gweek,  up  the  Helford  river,  who 
was  indeed  a  distant  connection  of  Hereward  himself, 
having  married,  as  did  so  many  of  the  Celtic  princes, 
the  daughter  of  a  Danish  sea  rover  of  Siward's  blood. 
They  told  him  also  that  the  kinglet  increased  his 
wealth,  not  only  by  the  sale  of  tin  and  of  red  cattle, 
but  by  a  certain  amount  of  "  Summer-leding "  (i.e. 
piracy  between  seed-time  and  harvest)  in  company 
with  his  Danish  brothers-in-law  from  Dublin  and 
Waterford  ;  and  Hereward,  who  believed  with  most 
Englishmen  of  the  East  Country,  that  Cornwall  still 
produced  a  fair  crop  of  giants,  some  of  them  with  two 
and  even  three  heads,  had  hopes  that  Alef  might  show 
him  some  adventure  worthy  of  his  sword.  He  sailed 
in,  therefore,  over  a  rolling  bar,  between  jagged  points 

1  Probably  a  corruption  or.  the  Norse  name  Olaf.     There  is  much  Norse  blood 
in  the  sea  ports  of  Cornwall  and  D«ron,  as  the  surnames  testify. 


76  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

of  black  rock,  and  up  a  tide  river  which  wandered  and 
branched  away  inland  like  a  landlocked  lake,  between 
high  green  walls  of  oak  and  ash,  till  they  saw  at  the 
head  of  the  tide  Alefs  town,  nestling  in  a  glen  which 
sloped  towards  the  southern  sun.  They  discovered, 
besides,  two  ships  drawn  up  upon  the  beach,  whose 
long  lines  and  snake-heads,  beside  the  stoat  carved  on 
the  beak-head  of  one,  and  the  adder  on  that  of  the 
other,  bore  witness  to  the  piratical  habits  of  their 
owner.  The  merchants,  it  seemed,  were  well  known 
to  the  Cornishmen  on  shore,  and  Hereward  went  up 
with  them  unopposed ;  past  the  ugly  dykes  and 
muddy  leats,  where  Alefs  slaves  were  streaming  the 
gravel  for  tin  ore ;  through  rich  alluvial  pastures 
spotted  with  red  cattle ;  and  up  to  Alefs  town. 
Earthworks  and  stockades  surrounded  a  little  church 
of  ancient  stone,  and  a  cluster  of  granite  cabins 
thatched  with  turf,  in  which  the  slaves  abode.  In  the 
centre  of  all  a  vast  stone  barn,  with  low  walls  and 
high  sloping  roof,  contained  Alefs  family,  treasures, 
housecarles,  horses,  cattle,  and  pigs.  They  entered 
at  one  end  between  the  pigstyes,  passed  on  through 
the  cow-stalls,  then  through  the  stables  ;  till  they  saw 
before  them,  dim  through  the  reek  of  peat-smoke,  a 
long  oaken  table,  at  which  sat  huge  dark-haireJ 
Cornishmen,  with  here  and  there  among  them  the 
yellow  head  of  a  Norseman,  who  were  Alefs  following 
of  fighting  men.  Boiled  meat  was  there  in  plenty  ; 
barley  cakes  and  ale.  At  the  head  of  the  table,  on  a 
high-backed  settle,  was  Alef  himself,  a  jolly  giant, 
who  was  just  setting  to  work  to  drink  himself  stupid 
with  mead  made  from  narcotic  heather  honey.  By  his 
side  sat  a  lovely  dark-haired  girl,  with  great  gold 
tores  upon  her  throat  and  wrists,  and  a  great  gold 
brooch  fastening  a  shawl  which  had  plainly  come  from 
the  looms  of  Spain  or  of  the  East ;  and  next  to  her 
a^ain,  feeding  her  with  tit-bits  cut  off  with  his  own 
dagger,  and  laid  on  barley  cake  instead  of  a  plate,  sat 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  77 

a  more  gigantic  personage  even  than  Alef,  the  biggest 
man  that  Hereward  had  ever  seen,  with  high  cheek 
bones  and  small  ferret  eyes,  looking  out  from  a  greasy 
mass  of  bright  red  hair  and  beard. 

No  questions  were  asked  of  the  new-comers.  They 
set  themselves  down  in  silence  in  empty  places,  and 
according  to  the  laws  of  the  good  old  Cornish 
hospitality,  were  allowed  to  eat  and  drink  their  fill 
before  they  spoke  a  word. 

"  Welcome  here  again,  friend,"  said  Alef  at  last,  in 
good  enough  Danish,  calling  the  eldest  merchant  by 
name.  "  Do  you  bring  wine?  " 

The  merchant  nodded. 

"  And  you  want  tin?  " 

The  merchant  nodded  again,  and  lifting  his  cup 
drank  Alef's  health,  following  it  up  by  a  coarse  joke 
in  Cornish,  which  raised  a  laugh  all  round. 

The  Norse  trader  of  those  days,  it  must  be  re- 
membered, was  none  of  the  cringing  and  effeminate 
chapmen  who  figure  in  the  stories  of  the  middle  ages. 
A  free  Norse  or  Dane,  himself  often  of  noble  blood,  he 
fought  as  willingly  as  he  bought;  and  held  his  own  as 
an  equal,  whether  at  the  court  of  a  Cornish  kinglet  or 
at  that  of  the  great  Kaiser  of  the  Greeks. 

"  And  you,  fair  sir,"  said  Alef,  looking  keenly  at 
Hereward,  "  by  what  name  shall  I  call  you,  and  what 
service  can  I  do  for  you?  You  look  more  like  an 
Earl's  son  than  a  merchant,  and  are  come  here  surely 
for  other  things  besides  tin." 

'  Health  to  King  Alef,"  said  Hereward,  raising  the 
cup.  "  Who  I  am  I  will  tell  to  none  but  Alef's  self  : 
but  an  Earl's  son  I  am,  though  an  outlaw  and  a  rover. 
My  lands  are  the  breadth  of  my  boot  sole.  My  plough 
is  my  sword.  My  treasure  is  my  good  right  hand. 
Nothing  I  have,  and  nothing  I  need,  save  to  serve 
noble  kings  and  earls,  and  win  me  a  champion's  fame. 
If  you  have  battles  to  fight,  tell  me;  that  I  may 
fight  them  for  you.  If  you  have  non«,  thank 


78  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

for  his  peace;  and  let  me  eat  and  drink,  and  go  in 
peace." 

"  King  Alef  needs  neither  man  nor  boy  to  fight  his 
battle  as  long  as  Ironhook  1  sits  in  his  hall." 

It  was  the  red-bearded  giant,  who  spoke  in  a  broken 
tongue,  part  Scotch,  part  Cornish,  part  Danish,  which 
Here  ward  could  hardly  understand  :  but  that  the  ogre 
intended  to  insult  him  he  understood  well  enough. 

Hereward  had  hoped  to  find  giants  in  Cornwall;  and 
behold  he  had  found  one  at  once;  though  rather,  to 
judge  from  his  looks,  a  Pictish  than  a  Cornish  giant: 
and  true  to  his  reckless  determination  to  defy  and  fight 
every  man  and  beast  who  was  willing  to  defy  and  fight 
him,  he  turned  on  his  elbow  and  stared  at  Ironhook  in 
scorn,  meditating  some  speech,  which  might  provoke 
the  hoped-for  quarrel. 

As  he  did  so  his  eye  happily  caught  that  of  the  fair 
Princess.  She  was  watching  him  with  a  strange  look, 
admiring,  warning,  imploring;  and  when  she  saw  that 
he  noticed  her,  she  laid  her  finger  on  her  Up  in  token 
of  silence,  crossed  herself  devoutly,  and  then  laid  her 
finger  on  her  lips  again,  as  if  beseeching  him  to  be 
patient  and  silent  in  the  name  of  the  Heavenly 
powers. 

Hereward,  as  is  well  seen,  wanted  not  for  quick  wit 
or  for  chivalrous  feeling.  He  had  observed  the  rough 
devotion  of  the  giant  to  the  Lady.  He  had  observed, 
too,  that  she  shrank  from  it;  that  she  turned  away 
with  loathing  when  he  offered  her  his  own  cup,  while 
he  answered  by  a  dark  and  deadly  scowl. 

Was  there  an  adventure  here  ?  Was  she  in  duresse 
either  from  this  Ironhook,  or  from  her  father,  or  from 
both?  Did  she  need  Hereward's  help?  If  so,  she 
was  so  lovely  that  he  could  not  refuse  it.  And  on  the 
chance,  he  swallowed  down  his  high  stomach,  and 
answered  blandly  enough  : 

*  "  Ulcus  Ferreus,"  says  Richard  of  Ely;  surely  a  misreading  for  uncus.  The 
book  was  a  not  uncommon  weapon  among  seamen. 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  79 

"One  could  see  without  eyes,  noble  sir,  that  you 
were  worth  any  ten  common  men  :  but  as  every  one 
has  not  like  you  the  luck  of  so  lovely  a  lady  by  your 
side,  I  thought  that  perchance  you  might  hand  over 
some  of  your  lesser  quarrels  to  one  like  me,  who  has 
not  yet  seen  so  much  good  fighting  as  yourself,  and 
enjoy  yourself  in  pleasant  company  at  home,  as  I 
should  surely  do  in  your  place." 

The  Princess  shuddered  and  turned  pale ;  then 
looked  at  Hereward  and  smiled  her  thanks.  Ironhook 
laughed  a  savage  laugh. 

Hereward's  jest  being  translated  into  Cornish  for  the 
benefit  of  the  company,  was  highly  approved  by  all ; 
and  good  humour  being  restored,  every  man  got  drunk 
save  Hereward,  who  found  the  mead  too  sweet  and 
sickening. 

After  which  those  who  could  go  to  bed,  went  to  bed, 
not  as  in  England,1  among  the  rushes  on  the  floor, 
but  in  the  bunks  or  berths  of  wattle  which  stood  two 
or  three  tiers  high  along  the  wall. 

The  next  morning,  as  Hereward  went  out  to  wash 
his  face  and  hands  in  the  brook  below  (he  being  the 
only  man  in  the  house  who  did  so),  Martin  Lightfoot 
followed  him. 

"  What  is  it,  Martin?  Hast  thou  had  too  much  of 
that  sweet  mead  last  night  that  thou  must  come  out 
to  cool  thy  head  too  ?  " 

"  I  came  out  for  two  reasons — first  to  see  fair  play, 
in  case  that  Ironhook  should  come  to  wash  his  ugly 
visage,  and  find  you  on  all  fours  over  the  brook — you 
understand  ?  And  next  to  tell  you  what  I  heard  last 
night  among  the  maids." 

"  And  what  didst  thou  hear  ?  " 

"Fine  adventures,  if  we  can  but  compass  them. 
You  saw  that  lady  with  the  carrot-headed  fellow  ?  I 
saw  that  you  saw.  Well,  if  you  will  believe  me,  that 
man  has  no  more  gentle  blood  than  I  have.  He  is  a 

1  Cornwall  was  not  then  considered  part  of  England. 


8e  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

No-man's  son,  a  Pict  from  Galloway,  who  came  down 
with  a  pirate  crew,  and  has  made  himself  the  master 
of  this  drunken  old  Prince,  and  the  darling-  of  all  his 
housecarles,  and  now  will  needs  be  his  son-in-law 
whether  he  will  or  not. " 

"  I  thought  as  much,"  said  Hereward  ;  "but  how 
didst  thou  find  out  this  ?  " 

"  I  went  out  and  sat  with  the  knaves  and  the  maids, 
and  listened  to  their  harp-playing  (and  harp  they  can, 
these  Cornish,  like  very  elves) ;  and  then  I  too  sang 
songs  and  told  them  stories,  for  I  can  talk  their  tongnae 
somewhat,  till  they  all  blest  me  for  a  right  good 
fellow.  And  then  I  fell  to  praising  up  Ironhook  to 
the  women." 

"  Praising  him  up,  man  ?  " 

"Ay,  just  because  I  suspected  him  ;  for  the  women 
are  so  contrary  that  if  you  speak  evil  of  a  man  they 
will  surely  speak  g-ood  of  him  ;  but  if  you  will  only 
speak  good  of  him,  then  you  will  hear  all  the  evil  of 
him  he  ever  has  done,  and  more  beside.  And  this  I 
heard  ;  that  the  King's  daughter  cannot  abide  him, 
and  would  as  lief  marry  a  seal." 

"One  did  not  need  to  be  told  that,"  said  Hereward, 
"as  long  as  one  has  eyes  in  one's  head.  I  will  kill 
the  fellow,  and  carry  her  off,  ere  four-and-twenty 
hours  be  past." 

"Softly,  softly,  my  young  master.  You  need  to  be 
told  something  that  your  eyes  would  not  tell  you,  and 
that  is  that  the  poor  lass  is  betrothed  already  to  a  son 
of  old  King  Ranald  the  Ostman,  of  Waterford,  son  of 
old  King  Sigtryg,  who  ruled  there  when  I  was  a  boy." 

"  He  is  a  kinsman  of  mine  then,"  said  Hereward. 
"  All  the  more  reason  that  I  should  kill  this  ruffian." 

"  If  you  can,"  said  Martin  Lightfoot. 

"  If  I  can  ?  "  retorted  Hereward  fiercely. 

"  Well,  well,  wilful  heart  must  have  its  way,  only 
take  my  counsel  ;  speak  to  the  poor  young  lady  first, 
and  see  what  she  will  tell  you,  lest  you  only  make 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  81 

bad  worse,  and  bring  down  her  father  and  his  men  on 
her  as  well  as  you." 

Hereward  agreed,  and  resolved  to  watch  his  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  to  the  princess. 

As  they  went  in  to  the  morning  meal  they  met  Alef. 
He  was  in  high  good  humour  with  Hereward  ;  and  all 
the  more  so  when  Hereward  told  him  his  name,  and 
how  he  was  the  son  of  Leofric. 

"I  will  warrant  you  are,"  he  said,  "by  the  gray 
head  you  carry  on  green  shoulders.  No  discreeter 
man,  they  say,  in  these  isles  than  the  old  earl." 

"You  speak  truth,  sir,"  said  Hereward,  "though 
he  be  no  father  of  mine  own,  for  of  Leofric  it  is  said  in 
King  Edward's  court,  that  if  a  man  ask  counsel  of  him, 
it  is  as  though  he  had  asked  it  of  the  oracles  of  God." 

"Then  you  are  his  true  son,  young  man.  I  saw 
how  you  kept  the  peace  with  Ironhook,  and  I  owe  you 
thanks  for  it ;  for  though  he  is  my  good  friend,  and 
will  be  my  son-in-law  ere  long-,  yet  a  quarrel  with  him 
is  more  than  I  can  abide  just  now,  and  I  should  not 
like  to  have  seen  my  guest  and  my  kinsman  slain  in 
my  house." 

Hereward  would  have  said  that  he  thought  there 
was  no  fear  of  that : — but  he  prudently  held  his  tongue, 
and  having  an  end  to  gain,  listened  instead  of  talking. 

"  Twenty  years  ago,  of  course,  I  could  have  thrashed 

him  as  easily  as ;  but  now  I  am  getting  old  and 

shaky,  and  the  man  has  been  a  great  help  in  need  ; 
six  kings  of  these  parts  has  he  killed  for  me,  who 
drove  off  my  cattle,  and  stopped  my  tin  works,  and 
plundered  my  monks'  cells  too,  which  is  worse,  while 
I  was  away  sailing  the  seas  ;  and  he  is  a  right  good 
fellow  at  heart,  though  he  be  a  little  rough.  So  be 
friends  with  him  as  long  as  you  stay  here,  and  if  I  can 
do  you  a  service  I  will." 

They  went  in  to  their  morning  meal,  at  which 
Hereward  resolved  to  keep  the  peace  which  he  longed 
to  break,  and,  therefore,  as  was  to  be  expected,  broke. 


82  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

For  during  the  meal  the  fair  lady,  with  no  worse 
intention  perhaps  than  that  of  teasing-  her  tyrant,  fell 
to  open  praises  of  Hereward's  fair  face  and  golden 
hair,  and  being-  insulted  therefore  by  the  Ironhook, 
retaliated  by  observations  about  his  personal  appear- 
ance, which  were  more  common  in  the  eleventh  century 
than  they  happily  are  now.  He,  to  comfort  himself, 
drank  deep  of  the  French  wine  which  had  just  been 
boug-ht  and  broached,  and  then  went  out  into  the 
courtyard,  where  in  the  midst  of  his  admiring  fellow 
ruffians  he  enacted  a  scene  as  ludicrous  as  it  was 
pitiable.  All  the  childish  vanity  of  the  savage  boiled 
over.  He  strutted,  he  shouted,  he  tossed  about  his 
huge  limbs,  he  called  for  a  harper,  and  challenged  all 
around  to  dance,  sing,  leap,  fight,  do  anything 
against  him ;  meeting  with  nothing  but  admiring 
silence,  he  danced  himself  out  of  breath,  and  then 
began  boasting  once  more,  of  his  fights,  his  cruelties, 
his  butcheries,  his  impossible  escapes  and  victories  ; 
till  at  last,  as  luck  would  have  it,  he  espied  Hereward, 
and  poured  out  a  stream  of  abuse  against  Englishmen 
and  English  courage. 

"Englishmen,"  he  said,  "were  nought.  Had  he 
not  slain  three  of  them  himself  with  one  blow  ?  " 

"Of  your  mouth,  I  suppose,"  quoth  Hereward, 
who  saw  that  the  quarrel  must  come,  and  was  glad 
to  have  it  done  and  over. 

"  Of  my  mouth  ?  "  roared  Ironhook,  "  of  my  sword, 
man  ! " 

"  Of  your  mouth,"  said  Hereward.  "Of  your  brain 
were  they  begotten,  of  the  breath  of  your  mouth  they 
were  born,  and  by  the  breath  of  your  mouth  you  can 
slay  them  again  as  often  as  you  choose." 

The  joke,  as  it  has  been  handed  down  to  us  by  the 
old  chroniclers,  seems  clumsy  enough  :  but  it  sent  the 
Princess,  say  they,  into  shrieks  of  laughter. 

"Were  it  not  that  my  lord  Alef  was  here,"  shouted 
Ironhook,  "I  would  kill  you  out  of  hand." 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  83 

1  "  Promise  to  fight  fair,  and  do  your  worst.  The 
more  fairly  you  fight,  the  more  honour  you  will  win," 
said  Hereward. 

Whereupon  the  two  were  parted  for  the  while. 
Two  hours  afterwards  Hereward,  completely  armed 
with  helmet  and  mail  shirt,  sword  and  javelin,  hurried 
across  the  great  courtyard  with  Martin  Lightfoot  at 
his  heels,  towards  the  little  church  upon  the  knoll 
above.    The  two  wild  men  entered  into  the  cool  dark- 
ness, and  saw  before  them  by  the  light  of  a  tiny  lamp 
I  the  crucifix  over  the  altar,  and  beneath  it  that  which 
was  then  believed  to  be  the  body  of  Him  who  made 
'heaven  and  earth.     They  stopped  trembling  for  a 
[moment;     bowed    themselves    before    that    to    them 
perpetual  miracle;    and  then  hurried  on  to  a  low 
I  doorway    to    the    right,    inside    which    dwelt    Alef's 
chaplain,  one  of  those  good  Celtic  priests  who  were 
supposed  to  represent  a  Christianity  more  ancient 
I  than,  and  all  but  independent  of,  the  then  all-absorbing 
i  Church  of  Rome. 

The  cell  was  such  a  one  as  a  convict  would  now 
disdain  to  inhabit.     A  low  lean-to  roof;    the  slates 
;and    rafters    unceiled;     the    stone    walls    and    floor 
junplastered;     ill -lighted   by   a   hand-broad   window, 
jtinglazed,   and  closed  with  a  shutter  at  night.     A 
Itruss    of    straw    and    a    rug,    the    priest's    bed,    lay 
fin  a  corner.     The  only  other  furniture  was  a  large 
joak    chest,    containing    the    holy    vessels    and  vest- 
ments and  a  few  old  books.     It  stood  directly  under 
the  window  for  the  sake  of  light,  for  it  served  the 
good  priest  for  both  table  and  chair;    and  on  it  he 
was    sitting   reading   in   his   book   at   that   minute, 
the  sunshine  and  the  wind  streaming  in  behind  his 
head,   doing  no  good   to  his  rheumatism  of  thirty 
years'  standing. 

"  Is  there  a  priest  here?  "  asked  Hereward  hurriedly. 
The   old   man    looked   up,    shook   his   head,    and 
answered  in  Cornish. 


84  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

"Speak  to  him  in  Latin,  Martin:  may  be  he  will 
understand  that." 

Martin  spoke.  "My  lord  here  wants  a  priest  to 
shrive  him,  and  that  quickly.  He  is  going  to  fight 
the  great  tyrant  Ironhook,  as  you  call  him." 

"Ironhook?"  answered  the  priest  in  good  Latin 
enough.  "  And  he  so  young  !  God  help  him,  he  is  a 
dead  man.  What  is  this  ?  A  fresh  soul  sent  to  its 
account  by  the  hands  of  that  man  of  Belial  ?  Cannot 
he  entreat  him  ;  can  he  not  make  peace,  and  save  his 
young  life?  He  is  but  a  stripling,  and  that  man,  like 
Goliath  of  old,  a  man  of  war  from  his  youth  up. " 

"And  my  master,"  said  Martin  Lightfoot  proudly, 
' '  is  like  young  David — one  that  can  face  a  giant  and  kill 
him  ;  for  he  has  slain,  like  David,  his  lion  and  his  bear 
ere  now.  At  least,  he  is  one  that  will  neither  make 
peace,  nor  entreat  the  face  of  living  man.  So  shrive  him 
quickly,  master  Priest,  and  let  him  be  gone  to  his  work." 

Poor  Martin  Lightfoot  spoke  thus  bravely  only  to 
keep  up  his  spirits  and  his  young  lord's — for  in  spite 
of  his  confidence  in  Hereward's  prowess,  he  had  given 
him  up  for  a  lost  man;  and  the  tears  ran  down  his 
rugged  cheeks,  as  the  old  priest  rising  up  and  seizing 
Hereward's  two  hands  in  his,  besought  him,  with  the 
passionate  and  graceful  eloquence  of  his  race,  to  have 
mercy  upon  his  own  youth. 

Hereward  understood  his  meaning,  though  not  his 
words. 

"  Tell  him,"  he  said  to  Martin,  "  that  fight  I  must 
and  tell  him  that  shrive  me  he  must  and  that  quickly. 
Tell  him  how  the  fellow  met  me  in  the  wood  below 
just  now,  and  would  have  slain  me  there  unarmed  as 
I  was;  and  how,  when  I  told  him  it  was  a  shame  to 
strike  a  naked  man,  he  told  me  he  would  give  me 
but  one  hour's  grace  to  go  back,  on  the  faith  of  a 
gentleman,  for  my  armour  and  weapons,  and  meet 
him  there  again  to  die  by  his  hand. — So  shrive 
me  quick,  Sir  Priest." 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  85 

Hereward  knelt  down.  Martin  Lightfoot  knelt 
down  by  him,  and  with  a  trembling  voice  began  to 
interpret  for  him. 

"What  does  he  say?"  asked  Hereward,  as  the 
priest  murmured  something  to  himself. 

"He  said,"  quoth  Martin,  now  fairly  blubbering, 
"that,  fair  and  young  as  you  are,  your  shrift  should 
be  as  short  and  as  clean  as  David's." 

Hereward  was  touched.  "  Anything  but  that,"  said 
he,  smiting  on  his  breast,  "  Mea  culpa — mea  culpa — 
mea  maxima  culpa." 

"Tell  him  how  I  robbed  my  father." 

The  priest  groaned  as  Martin  did  so. 

"  And  how  I  mocked  at  my  mother,  and  left  her  in 
a  rage,  without  ever  a  kind  word  between  us.  And 
how  I  have  slain  I  know  not  how  many  men  in  battle, 
though  that,  I  trust,  need  not  lay  heavily  on  my  soul, 
seeing  that  I  killed  them  all  in  fair  fight." 

Again  the  priest  groaned. 

"And  how  I  robbed  a  certain  priest  of  his  money 
and  gave  it  away  to  my  housecarles. " 

Here  the  priest  groaned  more  bitterly  still. 

"  Oh  !  my  son,  my  son,  where  hast  thou  found  time 
to  lay  all  these  burdens  on  thy  young  soul  ?  " 

"  It  will  take  less  time,"  said  Martin  bluntly,  "for 
you  to  take  the  burdens  off  again." 

"But  I  dare  not  absolve  him  for  robbing  a  priest. 
Heaven  help  him  !  He  must  go  to  the  bishop  for 
that.  He  is  more  fit  to  go  on  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem 
than  to  battle." 

"He  has  no  time,"  quoth  Martin,  "for  bishops  or 
'Jerusalem." 

"Tell  him,"  says  Hereward,  "that  in  this  purse  is 
all  I  have,  that  in  it  he  will  find  sixty  silver  pennies, 
beside  two  strange  coins  of  gold." 

"Sir  Priest,"  said  Martin  Lightfoot,  taking  the 
purse  from  Hereward,  and  keeping  it  in  his  own 
hand,  "  there  are  in  this  bag  moneys." 


86  HE  RE  WARD  THE   WAKE. 

Martin  had  no  mind  to  let  the  priest  into  the  secret 
of  the  state  of  their  finances. 

"And  tell  him,"  continued  Hereward,  "that  if  I 
fall  in  this  battle  I  give  him  all  that  money,  that  he 
may  part  it  among  the  poor  for  the  good  of  my  soul." 

"  Pish  !"  said  Martin  to  his  lord  ;  "that  is  paying 
him  for  having  you  killed.  You  should  pay  him  for 
keeping  you  alive."  And  without  waiting  for  the 
answer,  he  spoke  in  Latin. 

"And  if  he  comes  back  safe  from  this  battle,  he 
will  give  you  ten  pennies  for  yourself  and  your  church, 
Priest,  and  therefore  expects  you  to  pray  your  very 
loudest  while  he  is  gone." 

'*!  will  pray,  I  will  pray,"  said  the  holy  man  ;  "  I 
will  wrestle  in  prayer.  Ah  !  that  he  could  slay  the 
wicked,  and  reward  the  proud  according  to  his 
deservings.  Ah !  that  he  could  rid  me  and  my 
master,  and  my  young  lady,  of  this  son  of  Belial — 
this  devourer  of  widows  and  orphans — this  slayer  of 
the  poor  and  needy,  who  fills  this  place  with  innocent 
blood — him  of  whom  it  is  written,  *  They  stretch  forth 
their  mouth  unto  the  heaven,  and  their  tongue  g'oeth 
through  the  world.  Therefore  fall  the  people  unto 
them,  and  thereout  suck  they  no  small  advantage.' 
I  will  shrive  him,  shrive  him  of  all  save  robbing  the 
priest,  and  for  that  he  must  go  to  the  bishop,  if  he 
live  :  and,  if  not,  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  his  soul." 

And  so,  weeping  and  trembling-,  the  good  old  man 
pronounced  the  words  of  absolution. 

Hereward  rose,  thanked  him,  and  then  hurried  out 
in  silence. 

"You  will  pray  your  very  loudest,  Priest,"  said 
Martin,  as  he  followed  his  young  lord. 

"I  will,  I  will,"  quoth  he,  and  kneeling  down  began 
to  chant  that  noble  73rd  Psalm,  "  Quam  bonus  Israel," 
which  he  had  just  so  fitly  quoted. 

"Thou  gavest  him  the  bag,  Martin?"  said  Here- 
ward, as  they  hurried  on. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  87 

"You  are  not  dead  yet.  'No  pay  no  play'  is  as 
good  a  rule  for  priest  as  for  layman." 

"Now  then,  Martin  Lightfoot,  good-bye.  Come 
not  with  me.  It  must  never  be  said,  even  slander- 
ously, that  I  brought  two  into  the  field  against  one ; 
and  if  I  die,  Martin " 

"You  won't  die!"  said  Lightfoot,  shutting  his 
teeth. 

"  If  I  die,  go  back  to  my  people  somehow,  and  tell 
them  that  I  died  like  a  true  Earl's  son." 

Hereward  held  out  his  hand ;  Martin  fell  on  his 
knees  and  kissed  it ;  watched  him  with  set  teeth  till 
he  disappeared  in  the  wood  ;  and  then  started  forward 
and  entered  the  bushes  at  a  different  spot. 

"I  must  be  nigh  at  hand  to  see  fair  play,"  he 
muttered  to  himself,  "in  case  any  of  his  ruffians  be 
hanging  about.  Fair  play  I'll  see,  and  fair  play  I'll 
give,  too,  for  the  sake  of  my  lord's  honour,  though 
I  be  bitterly  loth  to  do  it.  So  many  times  as  I  have 
been  a  villain  when  it  was  of  no  use,  why  mayn't  I  be 
one  now,  when  it  would  serve  the  purpose  indeed? 
Why  did  we  ever  come  into  this  accursed  place  ?  But 
one  thing  I  will  do,"  said  he,  as  he  ensconced  himself 
under  a  thick  holly,  whence  he  could  see  the  meeting 
of  the  combatants  upon  an  open  lawn  some  twenty 
yards  away ;  "  if  that  big  bull-calf  kills  my  master, 
and  I  do  not  jump  on  his  back  and  pick  his  brains 
out  with  this  trusty  steel  of  mine,  may  my  right 
arm " 

And  Martin  Lightfoot  swore  a  fearful  oath,  which 
need  not  here  be  written. 

The  priest  had  just  finished  his  chant  of  the  73rd 
Psalm,  and  had  betaken  himself  in  his  spiritual  war- 
fare, as  it  was  then  called,  to  the  equally  apposite 
52nd,  "  Quid  gloriaris?  " 

' '  Why  boastest  thou  thyself,  thou  tyrant,  that  thou 
canst  do  mischief,  whereas  the  goodness  of  God 
endureth  yet  daily  ?  " 


88  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

"  Father!  father  !"  cried  a  soft  voice  in  the  door 
way,  "  where  are  you  ?  " 

And  in  hurried  the  Princess. 

"  Hide  this,"  she  said,  breathless,  drawing  from 
beneath  her  mantle  a  huge  sword  ;  "  hide  it,  where 
no  one  dare  touch  it,  under  the  altar  behind  the  holy 
rood  :  no  place  too  secret." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  priest,  rising  from  his 
knees. 

"  His  sword — the  Ogre's — his  magic  sword,  which 
kills  whomsoever  it  strikes.  I  coaxed  him  to  let  me 
have  it  last  night  when  he  was  tipsy,  for  fear  he 
should  quarrel  with  the  young  stranger  ;  and  I  have 
kept  it  from  him  ever  since  by  one  excuse  or  another ; 
and  now  he  has  sent  one  of  his  ruffians  in  for  it, 
saying,  that  if  I  do  not  give  it  up  at  once  he  will  come 
back  and  kill  me." 

"  He  dare  not  do  that,"  said  the  priest. 

"  What  is  there  that  he  dare  not  ? "  said  she. 
"  Hide  it  at  once  ;  I  know  that  he  wants  it  to  fight 
with  this  Hereward." 

"  If  he  wants  it  for  that,"  said  the  priest,  "  it  is  too 
late ;  for  half  an  hour  is  past  since  Hereward  went  to 
meet  him." 

' '  And  you  let  him  go  ?  You  did  not  persuade  him, 
stop  him  ?  You  let  him  go  hence  to  his  death  ?  " 

In  vain  the  good  man  expostulated,  and  explained 
that  it  was  no  fault  of  his. 

"  You  must  come  with  me  this  instant  to  my  father 
— to  them  ;  they  must  be  parted.  They  shall  be  parted. 
If  you  dare  not,  I  dare.  I  will  throw  myself  between 
them,  and  he  that  strikes  the  other  shall  strike  me." 

And  she  hurried  the  priest  out  of  the  house,  down 
the  knoll,  and  across  the  yard.  There  they  found 
others  on  the  same  errand.  The  news  that  a  battle 
was  toward  had  soon  spread,  and  the  men-at-arms 
were  hurrying  down  to  the  fight ;  kept  back,  however, 
by  Alef,  who  strode  along  at  their  head. 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  89 

Alef  was  sorely  perplexed  in  mind.  He  had  taken, 
as  all  honest  men  did,  a  great  liking  to  Hereward. 
Moreover,  he  was  his  kinsman  and  his  guest.  Save 
him  he  would  if  he  could  ;  but  how  to  save  him  with- 
out mortally  offending  his  tyrant  Ironhook  he  could 
not  see.  At  least  he  would  exert  what  little  power 
he  had,  and  prevent,  if  possible,  his  men-at-arms  from 
helping  their  darling  leader  against  the  hapless  lad. 

Alefs  perplexity  was  much  increased  when  his 
daughter  bounded  towards  him,  seized  him  by  the  arm, 
and  hurried  him  on,  showing  by  look  and  word  which 
of  the  combatants  she  favoured,  so  plainly  that  the 
ruffians  behind  broke  into  scornful  murmurs.  They 
burst  through  the  bushes.  Martin  Lightfoot  happily 
heard  them  coming,  and  had  just  time  to  slip  away 
noiselessly,  like  a  rabbit,  to  the  other  part  of  the 
cover. 

The  combat  seemed  at  the  first  glance  to  be  one 
between  a  grown  man  and  a  child,  so  unequal  was 
the  size  of  the  combatants.  But  the  second  look 
showed  that  the  advantage  was  by  no  means  with 
Ironhook.  Stumbling  to  and  fro  with  the  broken 
shaft  of  a  javelin  sticking  in  his  thigh,  he  vainly  tried 
to  seize  Hereward  with  his  long-iron  grapple.  Here- 
ward,  bleeding,  but  still  active  and  upright,  broke 
away,  and  sprang  round  him,  watching  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  strike  a  deadly  blow.  The  housecarles 
rushed  forward  with  yells.  Alef  shouted  to  the 
combatants  to  desist :  but  ere  the  party  could  reach 
them,  Hereward's  opportunity  had  come.  Ironhook 
after  a  fruitless  lunge  stumbled  forward.  Hereward 
leaped  aside,  and  spying  an  unguarded  spot  below  the 
corslet,  drove  his  sword  deep  into  the  giant's  body, 
and  rolled  him  over  upon  the  sward.  Then  arose 
shouts  of  fury. 

"  Foul  play  !  "  cried  one. 

And  others,  taking  up  the  cry,  called  out,  "  Sorcery ! " 
and  "Treason!" 


90  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

Hereward  stood  over  Ironhook  as  he  lay  writhing 
and  foaming1  on  the  ground. 

"  Killed  by  a  boy  at  last!"  groaned  he.  "  If  I 
had  but  had  my  sword — my  Brain-biter  which  that 
witch  stole  from  me  but  last  night !  " — and  amid  foul 
curses  and  bitter  tears  of  shame  his  mortal  spirit  fled 
to  its  doom. 

The  housecarles  rushed  in  on  Hereward,  who  had 
enough  to  do  to  keep  them  at  arm's  length  by  long 
sweeps  of  his  sword. 

Alef  entreated,  threatened,  promised  a  fair  trial  if 
the  men  would  give  fair  play  :  when,  to  complete  the 
confusion,  the  princess  threw  herself  upon  the  corpse, 
shrieking  and  tearing  her  hair  ;  and  to  Hereward's 
surprise  and  disgust,  bewailed  the  prowess  and  the 
virtues  of  the  dead,  calling  upon  all  present  to  avenge 
his  murder. 

Hereward  vowed  inwardly  that  he  would  never 
again  trust  woman's  fancy,  or  fight  in  woman's  quarrel. 
He  was  now  nigh  at  his  wits'  end  ;  the  housecarles 
had  closed  round  him  in  a  ring  with  the  intention  of 
seizing  him  ;  and  however  well  he  might  defend  his 
front,  he  might  be  crippled  at  any  moment  from 
behind  :  but  in  the  very  nick  of  time  Martin  Lightfoot 
burst  through  the  crowd,  set  himself  heel  to  heel  with 
his  master,  and  broke  out,  not  with  threats,  but  with 
a  good-humoured  laugh. 

"  Here  is  a  pretty  coil  about  a  red-headed  brute  of 
a  Pict !  Danes,  Ostmen,"  he  cried,  "are  you  not 
ashamed  to  call  such  a  fellow  your  lord,  when  you 
have  such  a  true  Earl's  son  as  this  to  lead  you  if  you 
will  ?  " 

The  Ostmen  in  the  company  looked  at  each  other. 
Martin  Lightfoot  saw  that  his  appeal  to  the  antipathies 
of  race  had  told.  He,  therefore,  followed  it  up  by  a 
string  of  witticisms  upon  the  Pictish  nation  in  general, 
of  which  the  only  two  fit  for  modern  ears  to  be  set 
down  were  the  two  old  stories,  that  the  Picts  had  feet 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  gi 

so  large  that  they  used  to  lie  upon  their  backs  and 
hold  up  their  leg's  to  shelter  themselves  from  the  sun  ; 
and  that  when  killed,  they  could  not  fall  down,  but 
died  as  they  were,  all  standing. 

"So  that  the  only  foul  play  I  can  see  is  that  my 
master  shoved  the  fellow  over  after  he  had  stabbed 
him,  instead  of  leaving'  him  to  stand  uprig'ht  there, 
like  one  of  your  Cornish  Dolmens,  till  his  flesh  should 
fall  off  his  bones." 

Hereward  saw  the  effect  of  Martin's  words  ;  and 
burst  out  in  Danish  likewise,  with  a  true  Vikingf  chant : 

Look  at  me,  dread  me  ! 

I  am  the  Hereward,1 

The  watcher,  the  champion, 

The  Berserker,  the  Viking-, 

The  land-thief,  the  sea-thief, 

Young  summer-pirate, 

Famous  land-waster, 

Slayer  of  witch-bears, 

Queller  of  Ogres, 

Fattener  of  ravens, 

Darling1  of  gray  wolves, 

Wild  widow-maker. 

Touch  me — to  wolf  and 

Raven  I  give  you. 

Ship  with  me  boldly, 

Follow  me  gaily, 

Over  the  swan's  road, 

Over  the  whale's  bath, 

Far  to  the  southward, 

Where  sun  and  sea  meet ; 

Where  from  the  palm-boughs 

Apples  of  gold  hang1 ; 

And  freig-ht  there  our  long-snake 

With  sendal  and  or  fray, 

Dark  Moorish  maidens, 

And  gold  of  Alg  ier. 

"Hark  to  the  Viking!  Hark  to  the  right  Earl's 
son  !  "  shouted  some  of  the  Danes,  whose  blood  had 
been  stirred  many  a  time  before  by  such  wild  words, 
and  on  whom  Hereward's  youth  and  beauty  had  their 

1  "  Guardian  of  the  Army." 


92  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

due  effect.  And  now  the  counsels  of  the  ruffians 
being  divided,  the  old  priest  gained  courage  to  step 
in.  Let  them  deliver  Hereward  and  his  serving  man 
into  his  custody.  He  would  bring  them  forth  on  the 
morrow,  and  there  should  be  full  investigation  and 
fair  trial.  And  so  Hereward  and  Martin,  who  both 
refused  stoutly  to  give  up  their  arms,  were  marched 
back  into  the  town,  locked  in  the  little  church,  and 
left  to  their  meditations. 

Hereward  sat  down  on  the  pavement  and  cursed 
the  Princess.  Martin  Lightfoot  took  off  his  master's 
corslet,  and,  as  well  as  the  darkness  would  allow, 
bound  up  his  wounds,  which  happily  were  not  severe. 

"Were  I  you,"  said  he  at  last,  "I  should  keep 
my  curses  till  I  saw  the  end  of  this  adventure." 

"  Has  not  the  girl  betrayed  me  shamefully  ?  " 

"  Not  she.  I  saw  her  warn  you,  as  far  as  looks 
could  do,  not  to  quarrel  with  the  man." 

"That  was  because  she  did  not  know  me.  Little 
she  thought  that  I  could " 

"Don't  holla  till  you  are  out  of  the  wood.  This 
is  a  night  for  praying  rather  than  boasting." 

"She  cannot  really  love  that  wretch,"  said 
Hereward,  after  a  pause.  "Thou  saw'st  how  she 
mocked  him." 

' '  Women  are  strange  things,  and  often  tease  most 
where  they  love  most." 
,     "  But  such  a  misbegotten  savage." 

"Women  are  strange  things,  say  I,  and  with  some 
a  big  fellow  is  a  pretty  fellow,  be  he  uglier  than  seven 
Ironhooks.  Still,  just  because  women  are  strange 
things,  have  patience,  say  I." 

The  lock  creaked,  and  the  old  priest  came  in. 
Martin  leaped  to  the  open  door ;  but  it  was  slammed 
in  his  face  by  men  outside  with  scornful  laughter. 

The  priest  took  Hereward's  head  in  his  hands, 
wept  over  him,  blest  him  for  having  slain  Goliath 
like  young-  David,  and  then  set  foad  and  drink  before 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  93 

the  two  ;  but  he  answered  Martin's  questions  only 
with  sighs  and  shakings  of  the  head. 

"Let  us  eat  and  drink  then,"  said  Martin,  "and 
after  that  you,  my  lord,  sleep  off  your  wounds  while 
I  watch  the  door.  I  have  no  fancy  for  these  fellows 
taking  us  unawares  at  night." 

Martin  lay  quietly  across  the  door  till  the  small 
hours,  listening  to  every  sound,  till  the  key  creaked 
once  more  in  the  lock.  He  started  at  the  sound  ; 
and  seizing  the  person  who  entered  round  the  neck, 
whispered,  "  One  word,  and  you  are  dead." 

"Do  not  hurt  me,"  answered  a  stifled  voice;  and 
Martin  Lightfoot,  to  his  surprise,  found  that  he  had 
grasped  no  armed  man,  but  the  slight  frame  of  a 
young  girl. 

"  I  am  the  Princess,"  she  whispered,  "let  me  in." 

"A  very  pretty  hostage  for  us,"  thought  Martin, 
and  letting  her  go  seized  the  key,  locking  the  door 
in  the  inside. 

"Take  me  to  your  master,"  she  cried,  and  Martin 
led  her  up  the  church  wondering,  but  half  suspecting 
some  further  trap. 

"You  have  a  dagger  in  your  hand,"  said  he, 
holding  her  wrist. 

"  I  have.  If  I  had  meant  to  use  it,  it  would  have 
been  used  first  on  you.  Take  it,  if  you  like." 

She  hurried  up  to  Hereward,  who  lay  sleeping 
quietly  on  the  altar  steps  ;  knelt  by  him,  wrung  his 
hands,  called  him  her  champion,  her  deliverer. 

"I  am  not  well  awake  yet,"  said  he  coldly,  "and 
do  not  know  whether  this  may  not  be  a  dream,  as 
more  that  I  have  seen  and  heard  seems  to  be." 

"It  is  no  dream.  I  am  true.  I  was  always  true 
to  you.  Have  I  not  put  myself  in  your  power  ?  Am 
I  not  come  here  to  deliver  you,  my  deliverer?  " 

"  The  tears  which  you  shed  over  your  Ogre's  corpse 
seem  to  have  dried  quickly  enough." 

"Cruel!     What  else  could  I  do?     You  heard  him 


94  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

accuse  me  to  his  rough  followers  of  having  stolen  his 
sword.  My  life,  my  father's  life,  were  not  safe  a 
moment,  had  I  not  dissembled,  and  done  the  thing  I 
loathed.  Ah  !  "  she  went  on  bitterly.  "  You  men, 
who  rule  the  world  and  us  by  cruel  steel,  you  forget 
that  we  poor  women  have  but  one  weapon  left  where- 
with to  hold  our  own,  and  that  is  cunning;  and  are 
driven  by  you  day  after  day  to  tell  the  lie  which  we 
detest." 

"  Then  you  really  stole  his  sword  ?  " 

"  And  hid  it  here,  for  your  sake."  And  she  drew 
the  weapon  from  behind  the  altar. 

"  Take  it.  It  is  yours  now.  It  is  magical.  Who- 
ever smites  with  it,  need  never  smite  again.  Now, 
quick,  you  must  be  gone.  But  promise  one  thing 
before  you  go." 

"  If  I  leave  this  land  safe  I  will  do  it,  be  it  what  it 
may.  Why  not  come  with  me,  lady,  and  see  it  done  ?  " 

She  laughed.  "  Vain  boy.  do  you  think  that  I 
love  you  well  enough  for  that  ?  " 

"  I  have  won  you,  and  why  should  I  not  keep  you  ?  " 
said  Hereward  sullenly. 

"  Do  you  not  know  that  I  am  betrothed  to  your 
kinsman?  And — though  that  you  cannot  know — that 
I  love  your  kinsman?  " 

"  So  I  have  all  the  blows,  and  none  of  the  spoil." 

"  Tush,  you  have  the  glory — and  the  sword — and' 
the  chance,  if  you  will  do  my  bidding,  of  being  called 
by  all  ladies  a  true  and  gentle  knight  who  cared  not 
for  his  own  pleasure,  but  for  deeds  of  chivalry.  Go 
to  my  betrothed — to  Waterford  over  the  sea.  Take 
him  this  ring,  and  tell  him  by  that  token  to  come  and 
claim  me  soon,  lest  he  run  the  danger  of  losing  me 
a  second  time,  and  lose  me  then  for  ever;  for  I  am 
in  hard  case  here,  and  were  it  not  for  my  father's 
sake,  perhaps  I  might  dare,  in  spite  of  what  men 
might  say,  to  flee  with  you  to  your  kinsman  across 
the  sea." 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  95 

"Trust  me  and  come,"  said  Hereward,  whose  young 
blood  kindled  with  a  sudden  nobleness. — "Trust  me 
and  I  will  treat  you  like  my  sister,  like  my  queen. 
By  the  holy  rood  above  I  will  swear  to  be  true  to  you." 

"  I  do  trust  you,  but  it  cannot  be.  Here  is  money 
for  you  in  plenty  to  hire  a  passage  it  you  need  :  it  is 
no  shame  to  take  it  from  me.  And  now  one  thing- 
more.  Here  is  a  cord — you  must  bind  the  hands  and 
feet  of  the  old  priest  inside,  and  then  you  must  bind 
mine  likewise." 

"  Never,"  quoth  Hereward. 

"  It  must  be.  How  else  can  I  explain  your  having 
got  the  key  ?  I  made  them  give  me  the  key  on  the 
pretence  that  with  one  who  had  most  cause  to  hate 
you,  it  would  be  safe ;  and  when  they  come  and  find 
us  in  the  morning  I  shall  tell  them  how  I  came  here 
to  stab  you  with  my  own  hands — you  must  lay  the 
dagger  by  me — and  how  you  and  your  man  fell  upon  us 
and  bound  us,  and  you  escaped.  Ah  !  Mary  Mother," 
continued  the  maiden  with  a  sigh,  "when  shall  we 
poor  weak  women  have  no  more  need  of  lying  ?  " 

She  lay  down,  and  Hereward,  in  spite  of  himself, 
gently  bound  her  hands  and  feet,  kissing  them  as  he 
bound  them. 

"I  shall  do  well  here  upon  the  altar  steps,"  said 
she.  "  How  can  I  spend  my  time  better  till  the 
morning  light  than  to  lie  here  and  pray  ?  " 

The  old  priest,  who  was  plainly  in  the  plot,  sub- 
mitted meekly  to  the  same  fate  ;  and  Hereward  and 
Martin  Lightfoot  stole  out,  locking  the  door,  but 
leaving  the  key  in  it  outside.  To  scramble  over  the 
old  earthwork  was  an  easy  matter ;  and  in  a  few 
minutes  they  were  hurrying  down  the  valley  to  the 
sea,  with  a  fresh  breeze  blowing  behind  them  from 
the  north. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,  my  lord,"  said  Martin  Lightfoot, 
"  to  keep  your  curses  till  you  had  seen  the  end  of  this 
adventure  ?  " 


96  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

Hereward  was  silent.  His  brain  was  still  whirling 
from  the  adventures  of  the  day,  and  his  heart  was  very 
deeply  touched.  His  shrift  of  the  morning,  hurried 
and  formal  as  it  had  been,  had  softened  him.  His 
danger — for  he  felt  how  he  had  been  face  to  face  with 
death — had  softened  him  likewise;  and  he  repented 
somewhat  of  his  vainglorious  and  bloodthirsty 
boastirtg  over  a  fallen  foe,  as  he  began  to  see  that 
there  was  a  purpose  more  noble  in  life  than  ranging 
land  and  sea,  a  ruffian  among  ruffians,  seeking  for 
glory  amid  blood  and  flame.  The  idea  of  chivalry, 
of  succouring  the  weak  and  the  oppressed,  of  keeping 
faith  and  honour  not  merely  towards  men  who  could 
avenge  themselves,  but  towards  women  who  could 
not ;  the  dim  dawn  of  purity,  gentleness,  and  the 
conquest  of  his  own  fierce  passions — all  these  had 
taken  root  in  his  heart  during  his  adventure  with 
the  fair  Cornish  girl.  The  seed  was  sown.  Would 
it  be  cut  down  again  by  the  bitter  blasts  of  the  rough 
fighting  world,  or  would  it  grow  and  bear  the  noble 
fruit  of  "  gentle,  very  perfect  knighthood  "  ? 

They  reached  the  ship,  clambered  on  board  without 
ceremony,  at  the  risk  of  being  taken  and  killed  as 
robbers,  and  told  their  case.  The  merchants  had 
not  completed  their  cargo  of  tin.  Hereward  offered 
to  make  up  their  loss  to  them,  if  they  would  set  sail 
at  once ;  and  they,  feeling  that  the  place  would  be 
for  some  time  to  come  too  hot  to  hold  them,  and 
being  also  in  high  delight,  like  honest  Ostmen,  with 
Hereward's  prowess,  agreed  to  sail  straight  for 
Waterford,  and  complete  their  cargo  there.  But 
the  tide  was  out.  It  was  three  full  hours  before 
the  ship  could  float ;  and  for  three  full  hours  they 
waited  in  fear  and  trembling,  expecting  the  Cornish- 
men  to  be  down  upon  them  in  a  body  every  moment ; 
under  which  wholesome  fear  some  on  board  prayed 
fervently  who  had  never  been  known  to  pray  before. 


II  ERE  WARD   THE   WAKE.  97 

CHAPTER   IV 

HOW  HEREWARD  TOOK   SERVICE  WITH  RANALD,  KING  OF 
WATERFORD. 

THE  coasts  of  Ireland  were  in  a  state  of  comparative 
peace  in  the  middle  of  the  eleventh  century.  The 
ships  of  Loghlin,  seen  far  out  at  sea,  no  longer  drove 
the  population  shrieking  inland.  Heathen  Danes, 
whether  fair-haired  Fiongall  from  Norway,  or  brown- 
haired  Dubhgall  from  Denmark  proper,  no  longer 
burned  convents,  tortured  monks  for  their  gold,  or 
(as  at  Clonmacnoise)  set  a  heathen  princess,  Oda, 
wife  of  Thorkill,  son  of  Harold  Haarfagre,  aloft  on 
the  high  altar  to  receive  the  homage  of  the  conquered. 
The  Scandinavian  invaders  had  become  Christianised, 
and  civilised  also — owing  to  their  continual  intercourse 
with  foreign  nations — more  highly  than  the  Irish 
whom  they  had  overcome.  That  was  easy  ;  for  early 
Irish  civilisation  seems  to  have  existed  only  in  the 
convents  and  for  the  religious ;  and  when  they  were 
crushed,  mere  barbarism  was  left  behind.  And  now 
the  same  process  went  on  in  the  east  of  Ireland, 
which  went  on  a  generation  or  two  later  in  the  east 
and  north  of  Scotland.  The  Danes  began  to  settle 
down  into  peaceful  colonists  and  traders.  Ireland 
was  poor;  and  the  convents  plundered  once  could 
not  be  plundered  again.  The  Irish  were  desperately 
brave.  Ill  armed  and  almost  naked,  they  were  as 
perfect  in  the  arts  of  forest  warfare  as  those  modern 
Maories  whom  they  so  much  resembled ;  and  though 
their  black  skenes  and  light  darts  were  no  match 
for  the  Danish  swords  and  battle-axes  which  they 
adopted  during  the  middle  age,  or  their  plaid  trousers 
and  felt  capes  for  the  Danish  helmet  and  chain  corslet, 
still  an  Irishman  was  so  ugly  a  foe,  that  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  fight  with  him  unless  he  could  be 
H.W.  D 


98  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

robbed  afterwards.  The  Danes,  who,  like  their 
descendants  of  Northumbria,  Moray,  and  Sutherland, 
were  canny  common-sense  folk,  with  a  shrewd  eye 
to  interest,  found,  somewhat  to  their  regret,  that 
there  were  trades  even  more  profitable  than  robbery 
and  murder.  They  therefore  concentrated  themselves 
round  harbours  and  river  mouths,  and  sent  forth  their 
ships  to  all  the  western  seas,  from  Dublin,  Waterford, 
Wexford,  Cork,  or  Limerick.  Every  important  sea- 
port in  Ireland  owes  its  existence  to  those  sturdy 
Vikings'  sons.  In  each  of  these  towns  they  had 
founded  a  petty  kingdom,  which  endured  until,  and 
even  in  some  cases  after,  the  conquest  of  Ireland 
by  Henry  II.  and  Strongbow.  They  intermarried 
in  the  meanwhile  with  the  native  Irish,  Brian  Born, 
for  instance,  was  so  connected  with  Danish  royalty, 
that  it  is  still  a  question  whether  he  himself  had  not 
Danish  blood  in  his  veins.  King  Sigtryg  Silkbeard, 
who  fought  against  him  at  Clontarf,  was  actually 
his  stepson — and  so  too,  according  to  another  Irish 
chronicler,  was  King  Olaff  Kvaran,  who,  even  at 
the  time  of  the  battle  of  Clontarf,  Was  married  to 
Brian  Boru's  daughter — a  marriage  which  (if  a  fact) 
was  startlingly  within  the  prohibited  degrees  ot  con- 
sanguinity. But  the  ancient  Irish  were  sadly  care- 
less on  such  points ;  and  as  Giraldus  Cambrensis 
says,  "followed  the  example  of  men  oi  old  in  their 
vices  more  willingly  than  in  their  virtues." 

More  than  forty  years  had  elapsed  since  that  famous 
battle  of  Clontarf,  and  since  Ragnvald,  Reginald,  or 
Ranald,  son  of  Sigtryg  the  Norseman,  had  been  slain 
therein  by  Brian  Boru.  On  that  one  day,  so  the  Irish 
sang,  the  Northern  invaders  were  exterminated,  once 
and  for  all,  by  the  Milesian  hero,  who  had  craftily 
used  the  strangers  to  fight  his  battles,  and  then  the 
moment  they  became  formidable  to  himself,  crushed 
them  till  ' '  from  Ho wth  to  Brandon  in  Kerry,  there 
was  not  a  threshingf-floor  without  a  Danish  slave 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  99 

threshing  thereon,  or  a  quern  without  a  Danish 
woman  grinding  thereat. 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  the  total  annihilation  of  the 
Danish  power  in  the  Emerald  isle,  Ranald  seemed  to 
the  eyes  of  men  to  be  still  a  hale  old  warrior,  ruling 
constitutionally — that  is,  with  a  wholesome  fear  of 
being  outlawed  or  murdered  if  he  misbehaved — over 
the  Danes  in  Waterford;  with  five  hundred  fair- 
haired  warriors  at  his  back,  two-edged  axe  on  shoulder, 
and  two-edged  sword  on  thigh.  His  ships  drove  a 
thriving  trade  with  France  and  Spain  in  Irish  fish, 
butter,  honey,  and  furs.  His  workmen  coined  money 
in  the  old  round  tower  of  Dundory,  built  by  his  pre- 
decessor and  namesake  about  the  year  1003,  which 
stands  as  Reginald's  tower  to  this  day.  He  had 
fought  many  a  bloody  battle  since  his  death  at  Clon- 
tarf,  by  the  side  of  his  old  leader  Sigtryg  Silkbeard. 
He  had  been  many  a  time  to  Dublin  to  visit  his  even 
more  prosperous  and  formidable  friend;  and  was  so 
delighted  with  the  new  church  of  the  Holy  Trinity, 
which  Sigtryg  and  his  bishop  Donatus  had  just  built, 
not  in  the  Danish  or  Ostman  town,  but  in  the  heart  of 
ancient  Celtic  Dublin  (plain  proof  of  the  utter  over- 
throw of  the  Danish  power),  that  he  had  determined 
to  build  a  like  church  in  honour  of  the  Holy  Trinity, 
in  Waterford  itself.  A  thriving  valiant  old  king  he 
seemed,  as  he  sat  in  his  great  house  of  pine  logs 
under  Reginald's  tower  upon  the  quay,  drinking 
French  and  Spanish  wines  out  of  horns  of  ivory  and 
cups  of  gold;  and  over  his  head  hanging,  upon  the 
wall,  the  huge  double-edged  axe  with  which,  so  his 
flatterers  had  whispered,  Brian  Bora  had  not  slain 
him,  but  he  Brian  Boru. 

Nevertheless,  then  as  since,  alas !  the  pleasant 
theory  was  preferred  by  the  Milesian  historians  to 
the  plain  truth.  And  far  away  inland,  monks  wrote 
and  harpers  sung  of  the  death  of  Ranald  the  fair- 
haired  Fiongall,  and  all  his  "  mailed  swarms." 


ioo  HEREWARD   THE  WAKE. 

One  Teague  MacMurrough,  indeed,  a  famous  bard 
of  those  parts,  composed  unto  his  harp  a  song  of 
Clontarf,  the  fame  whereof  reached  Ranald's  ears, 
and  so  amused  him  that  he  rested  not  day  or  night 
till  he  had  caught  the  hapless  bard  and  brought  him 
in  triumph  into  Waterford.  There  he  compelled  him 
at  sword's  point  to  sing  to  him  and  his  housecarles 
the  Milesian  version  of  the  great  historical  event ;  and 
when  the  harper  in  fear  and  trembling  came  to  the 
story  of  Ranald's  own  death  at  Brian  Boru's  hands, 
then  the  jolly  old  Viking  laughed  till  the  tears  ran 
down  his  face  ;  and  instead  of  cutting  off  Teague's 
head,  gave  him  a  cup  of  goodly  wine,  made  him  his 
own  harper  thenceforth,  and  bade  him  send  for  his 
wife  and  children,  and  sing  to  him  every  day,  especially 
the  song  of  Clontarf  and  his  own  death  ;  treating  him 
very  much,  in  fact,  as  English  royalty  during  the  last 
generation  treated  another  Irish  bard  whose  song  was 
even  more  sweet,  and  his  notions  of  Irish  history  even 
more  grotesque,  than  those  of  Teague  MacMurrough. 

It  was  to  this  old  king,  or  rather  to  his  son  Sigtryg, 
godson  of  Sigtryg  Silkbeard,  and  distant  cousin  of  his 
own,  that  Hereward  now  took  his  way,  and  told  his 
story,  as  the  king  sat  in  his  hall,  drinking  across  the 
fire  after  the  old  Norse  fashion.  The  fire  of  pine  logs 
was  in  the  midst  of  the  hall,  and  the  smoke  went  out 
through  a  hole  in  the  roof.  On  one  side  was  a  long 
bench,  and  in  the  middle  of  it  the  king's  high  arm- 
chair ;  right  and  left  of  him  sat  his  kinsmen  and 
the  ladies,  and  his  sea-captains  and  men  of  wealth. 
Opposite,  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire,  was  another 
bench.  In  the  middle  of  that  sat  his  marshal,  and 
right  and  left  all  his  housecarles.  There  were  other 
benches  behind,  on  which  sat  more  freemen,  but  of 
lesser  rank. 

And  they  were  all  drinking  ale,  which  a  servant 
poured  out  of  a  bucket  into  a  great  bull's  horn,  and 
the  men  handed  round  to  each  other. 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  101 

Then  Hereward  came  in,  and  sat  down  on  the  end 
of  the  hindermost  bench,  and  Martin  stood  behind 
him  ;  till  one  of  the  ladies  said  : 

"Who  is  that  young  stranger,  who  sits  behind  there 
so  humbly,  though  he  looks  like  an  Earl's  son,  more 
fit  to  sit  here  with  us  on  the  high  bench  ?  " 

"So  he  does,"  quoth  King  Ranald.  "Come  for- 
ward hither,  young  sir,  and  drink." 

And  when  Hereward  came  forward,  all  the  ladies 
agreed  that  he  must  be  an  Earl's  son  ;  for  he  had  a 
great  gold  tore  round  his  neck,  and  gold  rings  on  his 
wrists ;  and  a  new  scarlet  coat,  bound  with  gold 
braid  ;  and  scarlet  stockings,  cross-laced  with  gold 
braid  up  to  the  knee ;  and  shoes  trimmed  with 
marten's  fur ;  and  a  short  blue  silk  cloak  over  all, 
trimmed  with  marten's  fur  likewise  ;  and  by  his  side, 
in  a  broad  belt  with  gold  studs,  was  the  Ogre's  sword 
Brain-biter,  with  its  ivory  hilt  and  velvet  sheath  ;  and 
all  agreed  that  if  he  had  but  been  a  head  taller,  they 
had  never  seen  a  properer  man. 

"Aha!  such  a  gay  young  sea-cock  does  not  come 
hither  for  nought.  Drink  first,  man,  and  tell  us  thy 
business  after,"  and  he  reached  the  horn  to  Hereward. 

Hereward  took  it,  and  sang  : 

In  this  Braga-beaker, 
Brave  Ranald  I  pledge  ; 
In  good  liquor,  which  lightens 
Long  labour  on  oar-bench  ; 
Good  liquor  which  sweetens 
The  song  of  the  scald. 

"Thy  voice  is  as  fine  as  thy  feathers,  man.  Nay, 
drink  it  all.  We  ourselves  drink  here  by  the  peg  at 
midday :  but  a  stranger  is  welcome  to  fill  his  inside 
at  all  hours." 

Whereon  Hereward  finished  the  horn  duly ;  and  at 
Ranald's  bidding,  sat  him  down  on  the  high  settle. 
He  did  not  remark,  that  as  he  sat  down,  two  hand- 
some youths  rose  and  stood  behind  him. 


102  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"Now  then,  Sir  Priest,"  quoth  the  king,  "go  on 
with  your  story." 

A  priest,  Irish  by  his  face  and  dress,  who  sat  on 
the  high  bench,  rose,  and  renewed  an  oration  which 
Here  ward's  entrance  had  interrupted. 

"So,  O  great  king,  as  says  Homerus,  this  wise 
king  called  his  earls,  knights,  sea-captains,  and 
housecarles,  and  said  unto  them,  'Which  of  these 
two  kings  is  in  the  right,  who  can  tell  ?  But  mind 
you,  that  this  king  of  the  Enchanters  lives  far  away  in 
India,  and  we  never  heard  of  him  more  than  his  name  : 
but  this  king  Ulixes  and  his  Greeks  live  hard  by  ;  and 
which  of  the  two  is  it  wiser  to  quarrel  with,  him  that 
lives  hard  by  or  him  that  lives  far  off? '  Therefore, 
King  Ranald,  says,  by  the  mouth  of  my  humility,  the 
great  Feargus,  Lord  of  Ivark — '  Take  example  by 
Alcinous,  the  wise  king  of  Fairy,  and  listen  not  to 
the  ambassadors  of  those  lying  villains,  O'Dea,  Lord 
of  Slievardagh,  Maccarthy,  King  of  Cashel,  and 
O'Sullivan,  Lord  of  Knockraffin,  who  all  three  between 
them  could  not  raise  kernes  enough  to  drive  off  one  old 
widow's  cow.  Make  friends  with  me,  who  live  upon 
your  borders ;  and  you  shall  go  peaceably  through 
my  lands,  to  conquer  and  destroy  them,  who  live 
afar  off;  as  they  deserve,  the  sons  of  Baylial  and 
Judas.'" 

And  the  priest  crossed  himself,  and  sat  down.  At 
which  speech  Hereward  was  seen  to  laugh. 

"  Why  do  you  laugh,  young  sir?  The  priest  seems 
to  talk  like  a  wise  man,  and  is  my  guest  and  an 
ambassador." 

Then  rose  up  Hereward,  and  bowed  to  the  king. 
"  King  Ranald  Sigtrygsson,  it  was  not  for  rudeness 
that  I  laughed,  for  I  learned  good  manners  long-  ere  I 
came  here :  but  because  I  find  clerks  alike  all  over 
the  world." 

"How?" 

"  Quick  at  hiding  false  counsel  under  learned  speech. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  103 

I  know  nothing  of  Ulixes,  king,  nor  of  this  Feargus 
either :  and  I  am  but  a  lad,  as  you  see  :  but  I  heard  a 
bird  once  in  my  own  country  who  gave  a  very  different 
counsel  from  the  priest's." 

"Speak  on,  then.  This  lad  is  no  fool,  my  merry 
men  all." 

"There  were  three  copses,  King,  in  our  country, 
and  each  copse  stood  on  a  hill.  In  the  first  there 
built  an  eagle,  in  the  second  there  built  a  sparhawk, 
in  the  third  there  built  a  crow. 

"Now  the  sparhawk  came  to  the  eagle,  and  said, 
'  Go  shares  with  me,  and  we  will  kill  the  crow,  and 
have  her  wood  to  ourselves.' 

"  '  Humph  ! '  says  the  eagle,  '  I  could  kill  the  crow 
without  your  help  ;  however,  I  will  think  of  it.' 

"When  the  crow  heard  that,  she  came  to  the  eagle 
herself,  '  King  Eagle,'  says  she,  '  why  do  you  want  to 
kill  me,  who  live  ten  miles  from  you,  and  never  flew 
across  your  path  in  my  life?  Better  kill  that  little 
rogue  of  a  sparhawk  who  lives  between  us,  and  is 
always  ready  to  poach  on  your  marches  whenever  your 
back  is  turned.  So  you  will  have  her  wood  as  well  as 
your  own.' 

"'You  are  a  wise  crow,'  said  the  eagle;  and 
he  went  out  and  killed  the  sparhawk,  and  took  his 
wood." 

Loud  laughed  King  Ranald  and  his  Vikings  all. 
"Well  spoken,  young  man  I  We  will  take  the  spar- 
hawk,  and  let  the  crow  bide." 

"  Nay  but,"  quoth  Hereward,  "hear  the  end  of  the 
story.  After  a  while  the  eagle  finds  the  crow  beating 
about  the  edge  of  the  sparhawk's  wood. 

"'Oho!'  says  he,  'so  you  can  poach  as  well 
as  that  little  hook-nosed  rogue  ? '  and  he  killed 
her  too. 

"  '  Ah  ! '  says  the  crow,  when  she  lay  a-dying,  '  my 
blood  is  on  my  own  head.  If  I  had  but  left  the  spar- 
hawk  between  me  and  this  great  tyrant ! ' 


104  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"And  so  the  eagle  got  all  three  woods  to  himself." 

At  which  the  Vikings  laughed  more  loudly  than 
ever  ;  and  King  Ranald,  chuckling  at  the  notion  of 
eating  up  the  hapless  Irish  princes  one  by  one,  sent 
back  the  priest  (not  without  a  present  for  his  church, 
for  Ranald  was  a  pious  man)  to  tell  the  great  Feargus, 
that  unless  he  sent  into  Waterford  by  that  day  week, 
two  hundred  head  of  cattle,  a  hundred  pigs,  a  hundred- 
weight of  clear  honey,  and  as  much  of  wax,  Ranald 
would  not  leave  so  much  as  a  sucking  pig  alive  in 
Ivark. 

The  cause  of  quarrel,  of  course,  was  too  unimportant 
to  be  mentioned.  Each  had  robbed  and  cheated  the 
other  half  a  dozen  times  in  the  last  twenty  years.  As 
for  the  morality  of  the  transaction,  Ranald  had  this 
salve  for  his  conscience,  that  as  he  intended  to  do  to 
Feargus,  so  would  Feargus  have  gladly  done  to  him, 
had  he  been  living  peaceably  in  Norway,  and  been 
strong  enough  to  invade  and  rob  him.  Indeed,  so 
had  Feargus  done  already,  ever  since  he  wore  beard, 
to  every  chieftain  of  his  own  race  whom  he  was  strong 
enough  to  ill-treat.  Many  a  fair  herd  had  he  driven 
off,  many  a  fair  farm  burned,  many  a  fair  woman  carried 
off  a  slave,  after  that  inveterate  fashion  of  lawless 
feuds  which  makes  the  history  of  Celtic  Ireland  from 
the  earliest  times  one  dull  and  aimless  catalogue  of 
murder  and  devastation,  followed  by  famine  and 
disease  ;  and  now,  as  he  had  done  to  others,  so  was 
it  to  be  done  to  him. 

"And  now,  young  sir,  who  seem  as  witty  as 
you  are  good-looking,  you  may,  if  you  will,  tell 
us  your  name  and  your  business.  As  for  the 
name,  however,  if  you  wish  to  keep  it  to  yourself, 
Ranald  Sigtrygsson  is  not  the  man  to  demand  it  of 
an  honest  guest." 

Hereward  looked  round,  and  saw  Teague  Mac- 
Murrough  standing  close  to  him,  harp  in  hand.  He 
took  it  from  him  courteously  enough  ;  put  a  silver 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  105 

penny  into  the  minstrel's  hand  ;  and  running-  his  fingers 
over  the  strings,  rose  and  began  : 

Outlaw  and  free  thief 
Landless  and  lawless 
Through  the  world  fare  I, 
Thoughtless  of  life. 
Soft  is  my  beard,  but 
Hard  my  Brain-biter. 
Wake,  men  me  call,  whom 
Warrior  and  warden 
Find  ever  watchful. 
Far  in  Northumberland 
Slew  I  the  witch-bear, 
Cleaving  his  brain-pan, 
At  one  stroke  I  felled  him. 


And  so  forth,  chanting  all  his  doughty  deeds,  with 
such  a  voice  and  spirit  joined  to  that  musical  talent  for 
which  he  was  afterwards  so  famous,  till  the  hearts  of 
the  wild  Norsemen  rejoiced,  and  ' '  Skall  to  the  stranger ! 
Skall  to  the  young  Viking  !  "  rang  through  the  hall. 

Then  showing  proudly  the  fresh  wounds  on  his  bare 
arms,  he  sang  of  his  fight  with  the  Cornish  ogre,  and 
his  adventure  with  the  Princess.  But  always,  though 
he  went  into  the  most  minute  details,  he  concealed  the 
name  both  of  her  and  of  her  father,  while  he  kept  his 
eyes  steadily  fixed  on  Ranald's  eldest  son,  Sigtryg, 
who  sat  at  his  father's  right  hand. 

The  young  man  grew  uneasy,  red,  almost  angry  ; 
till  at  last  Hereward  sang : 

A  gold  ring  she  gave  me 
Right  royally  dwarf-worked, 
To  none  will  I  pass  it 
For  prayer  or  for  sword  stroke, 
Save  to  him  who  can  claim  it 
By  love  and  by  troth  plight, 
Let  that  hero  speak 
If  that  hero  be  here. 

Young  Sigtryg  half  started  from  his  feet :  but  when 
Hereward  smiled  at  him,  and  laid  his  finger  on  his 


106  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

lips,  he  sat  down  again.  Hereward  felt  his  shoulder 
touched  from  behind.  One  of  the  youths  who  had 
risen  when  he  sat  down  bent  over  him,  and  whispered 
in  his  ear : 

"Ah,  Hereward,  we  know  you.  Do  you  not  know 
us  ?  We  are  the  twins,  the  sons  of  your  sister, 
Siward  the  White  and  Siward  the  Red,  the  orphans 
of  Asbiorn  Siwardsson,  who  fell  at  Dunsinane." 

Hereward  sprang-  up,  struck  the  harp  again,  and 
sang 

Outlaw  and  free  thief, 
My  kinsfolk  have  left  me, 
And  no  kinsfolk  need  I 
Till  kinsfolk  shall  need  me. 
My  sword  is  my  father, 
My  shield  is  my  mother, 
My  ship  is  my  sister, 
My  horse  is  my  brother. 

"Uncle,  uncle,"  whispered  one  of  them  sadly, 
"listen  now  or  never,  for  we  have  bad  news  for  you 
and  us.  Your  father  is  dead,  and  Earl  Algar,  your 
brother,  here  in  Ireland,  outlawed,  a  second  time." 

A  flood  of  sorrow  passed  through  Hereward's  heart. 
He  kept  it  down,  and  rising  once  more,  harp  in 
hand : 

Hereward,  king",  hight  I. 

Holy  Leofric  my  father, 

In  Westminster  wiser 

None  walked  with  King  Edward. 

High  minsters  he  builded, 

Pale  monks  he  maintained. 

Dead  is  he,  a  bed-death, 

A  leech-death,  a  priest-death, 

A  straw-death,  a  cow's-death. 

Such  doom  suits  not  me. 

To  high  heaven,  all  so  softly, 

The  angels  uphand  him  ; 

In  meads  of  May  flowers 

Mild  Mary  will  meet  him  : 

Me,  happier,  the  Valkyrs 

Shall  waft  from  the  war-deck, 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  107 

Shall  hail  from  the  holmgang- 
Or  helmet-strewn  moorland. 
And  sword  strokes  ray  shrift  be, 
Sharp  spears  be  my  leeches, 
With  heroes'  hot  corpses 
High  heaped  for  my  pillow. 

"Skall  to  the  Viking!"  shouted  the  Danes  once 
more,  at  this  outburst  of  heathendom,  common 
enough  among  their  half-converted  race,  in  times 
when  monasticism  made  so  utter  a  divorce  between 
the  life  of  the  devotee  and  that  of  the  worldling,  that 
it  seemed  reasonable  enough  for  either  party  to  have 
their  own  heaven  and  their  own  hell.  After  all, 
Hereward  was  not  original  in  his  wish.  He  had  but 
copied  the  death-song  which  Siward  Digre  had  sung 
for  himself  some  three  years  before. 

All  praised  his  poetry,  and  especially  the  quickness  of 
his  alliterations  (then  a  note  of  the  highest  art) ;  and 
the  old  king  filling  not  this  time  the  horn,  but  a  golden 
goblet,  bid  him  drain  it  and  keep  the  goblet  for  his 
song. 

Young  Sigtryg  leaped  up,  and  took  the  cup  to 
Hereward.  "Such  a  scald,"  he  said,  "ought  to 
have  no  meaner  cup-bearer  than  a  king's  son." 

Hereward  drank  it  dry  ;  and  then  fixing  his  eyes 
meaningly  on  the  Prince,  dropped  the  Princess's  ring 
into  the  cup,  and  putting  it  back  into  Sigtryg's  hand, 
sang: 

The  beaker  I  reach  back 

More  rich  than  I  took  it. 

No  gold  will  I  grasp 

Of  the  king's,  the  ring-giver, 

Till,  by  wit  or  by  weapon, 

I  worthily  win  it. 

When  felled  by  my  faulchion 

False  Feargus  lies  gory, 

While  over  the  wolfs  meal 

Wild  widows  are  wailing. 

"  Does  he  refuse  my  gift  ?  "  grumbled  Ranald. 
"He  has  given  a  fair  reason,"  said  the  Prince,  as 


io8  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

he  hid  the  ring  in  his  bosom  ;  "  leave  him  to  me  ;  for 
my  brother  in  arms  he  is  henceforth." 

After  which,  as  was  the  custom  of  those  parts, 
most  of  them  drank  too  much  liquor.  But  neither 
Sigtryg  nor  Hereward  drank  ;  and  the  two  Siwards 
stood  behind  their  young  uncle's  seat,  watching  him 
with  that  intense  admiration  which  lads  can  feel  for 
a  young  hero. 

That  night,  when  the  warriors  were  asleep,  Sigtryg 
and  Hereward  talked  out  their  plans.  They  would 
equip  two  ships  ;  they  would  fight  all  the  kinglets  of 
Cornwall  at  once,  if  need  was ;  they  would  carry  off 
the  Princess,  and  burn  Alef  s  town  over  his  head  if  he 
said  nay.  Nothing  could  be  more  simple  than  the 
tactics  required  in  an  age  when  might  was  right. 

Then  Hereward  turned  to  his  two  nephews,  who 
lingered  near  him,  plainly  big  with  news. 

"And  what  brings  you  here,  lads?"  He  had 
hardened  his  heart,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  show  no 
kindness  to  his  own  kin.  The  day  might  come  when 
they  might  need  him  ;  then  it  would  be  his  turn. 

"  Your  father,  as  we  told  you,  is  dead." 

"So  much  the  better  for  him,  and  the  worse  for 
England.  And  Harold  and  the  Godwinssons,  of 
course,  are  lords  and  masters  far  and  wide?  " 

"Tosti  has  our  grandfather  Siward's  earldom." 

"  I  know  that.  I  know,  too,  that  he  will  not  keep 
it  long,  unless  he  learns  that  Northumbrians  are  free 
men,  and  not  Wessex  slaves." 

"And  Algar  our  uncle  is  outlawed  again,  after 
King  Edward  had  given  him  peaceably  your  father's 
earldom." 

"And  why?" 

' '  Why  was  he  outlawed  two  years  ago  ?  " 

"  Because  the  Godwinssons  hate  him  ;  as  they  will 
hate  you  in  your  turn." 

"And  Algar  is  gone  to  Griffin  the  Welshman,  and 
from  him  on  to  Dublin  to  get  ships,  just  as  he  did 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  109 

two  years  ago ;  and  has  sent  us  here  to  get  ships 
likewise." 

"And  what  will  he  do  with  them  when  he  has  got 
them?  He  burned  Hereford  last  time  he  was  outlawed, 
by  way  of  a  wise  deed,  minster  and  all,  with  St. 
Ethelbert's  relics  on  board  ;  and  slew  seven  priests  : 
but  they  were  only  honest  canons  with  wives  at  home, 
and  not  shaveling  monks,  so  1  suppose  that  sin  was 
easily  shrived.  Well,  I  robbed  a  priest  of  a  few 
pence,  and  was  outlawed  ;  he  plunders  and  burns  a 
whole  minster,  and  is  made  a  great  earl  for  it.  One 
law  for  the  weak  and  one  for  the  strong,  young  lads, 
as  you  will  know  when  you  are  as  old  as  I.  And  now 
I  suppose  he  will  plunder  and  burn  more  minsters, 
and  then  patch  up  a  peace  with  Harold  again  ;  which 
I  advise  him  strongly  to  do ;  for  I  warn  you,  young 
lads,  and  you  may  carry  that  message  from  me  to 
Dublin  to  my  good  brother  your  uncle,  that  Harold's 
little  finger  is  thicker  than  his  whole  body  ;  and  that, 
false  Godwinsson  as  he  is,  he  is  the  only  man  with  a 
head  upon  his  shoulders  left  in  England,  now  that  his 
father  and  my  father,  and  dear  old  Siward,  whom  I 
loved  better  than  my  father,  are  dead  and  gone." 

The  lads  stood  silent,  not  a  little  awed,  and  indeed 
imposed  on,  by  the  cynical  and  worldly-wise  tone 
which  their  renowned  uncle  had  assumed. 

"  At  last  one  of  them  asked  falteringly,  "Then  you 
will  do  nothing  for  us  ?  " 

"  For  you  nothing.  Against  you  nothing.  Why 
should  I  mix  myself  up  in  my  brother's  quarrels  ? 
Will  he  make  that  white-headed  driveller  at  West- 
minster reverse  my  outlawry  ?  And  if  he  does,  what 
shall  I  get  thereby  ?  A  younger  brother's  portion  ;  a 
dirty  ox-gang  of  land  in  Kesteven.  Let  him  leave  me 
alone  as  I  leave  him,  and  see  if  I  do  not  come  back  to 
him  some  day,  for  or  against  him  as  he  chooses, 
with  such  a  host  of  Viking's  sons  as  Harold 
Hardraade  himself  would  be  proud  of.  By  Thor's 


no  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

hammer,  boys,  I  have  been  an  outlaw  but  five 
years  now,  and  I  find  it  so  cheery  a  life,  that  I  do  not 
care  if  I  am  an  outlaw  for  fifty  more.  The  world  is 
a  fine  place  and  a  wide  place;  and  it  is  a  very  little 
corner  of  it  that  I  have  seen  yet;  and  if  you  were  of 
my  mettle,  you  would  come  along  with  me  and  see 
it  throughout  to  the  four  corners  of  heaven,  instead 
of  mixing  yourselves  up  in  these  paltry  little  quarrels 
with  which  our  two  families  are  tearing  England  in 
pieces,  and  being  murdered  perchance  like  dogs  at 
last  by  treachery,  as  Sweyn  Godwinsson  murdered 
Biorn  Ulfsson,  his  own  cousin." 

The  boys  listened,  wide-eyed  and  wide-eared. 
Here  ward  knew  to  whom  he  was  speaking;  and  he 
had  not  spoken  in  vain. 

"  What  do  you  hope  to  get  here?  "  he  went  on. 
"  Ranald  will  give  you  no  ships  :  he  will  have  enough 
to  do  to  fight  this  Feargus;  and  he  is  too  cunning  to 
thrust  his  head  into  Algar's  quarrels." 

"  We  hoped  to  find  Vikings  here  who  would  go  to 
any  war  on  the  hope  of  plunder." 

"  If  there  be  any,  I  want  them  more  than  you;  and 
what  is  more,  I  will  have  them.  They  know  that 
they  will  do  finer  deeds  with  me  for  their  captain, 
than  burning  a  few  English  homesteads.  And  so 
may  you.  Come  with  me,  lads.  Once  and  for  all, 
come.  Help  me  to  fight  Feargus.  Then  help  me  to 
another  little  adventure  which  I  have  on  hand — as 
pretty  a  one  as  ever  you  heard  a  minstrel  sing — and 
then  we  will  fit  out  a  large  ship  or  two,  and  go  where 
fate  leads — to  Constantinople,  if  you  like.  What  can 
you  do  better?  You  never  will  get  that  earldom  from 
Tosti.  Lucky  for  young  Waltheof,  your  uncle,  if  he 
gets  it; — if  he,  and  you  too,  are  not  murdered  within 
seven  years;  for  I  know  Tosti's  humour,  when  he  has 
rivals  in  his  way " 

"  Algar  will  protect  us,"  said  one. 

"  I  tell  you,  Algar  is  no  match  for  the  Godwinssons. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  in 

If  the  monk-king  died  to-morrow,  neither  his  earldom 
nor  his  life  would  be  safe.  When  I  saw  your  father 
Asbiorn  Bulax  lie  dead  at  Dunsinane,  I  said,  '  There 
ends  the  glory  of  the  house  of  the  bear ; '  and  if  you 
wish  to  make  my  words  come  false,  then  leave 
England  to  founder,  and  rot  and  fall  to  pieces — as  all 
men  say  she  is  doing — without  your  helping  to  hasten 
her  'ruin  ;  and  seek  glory  and  wealth  too  with  me 
around  the  world  !  The  white  bear's  blood  is  in  your 
veins,  lads.  Take  to  the  sea  like  your  forefather,  and 
come  over  the  swan's  bath  with  me  ! " 

"  That  we  will,"  said  the  two  lads.     And  well  they 
kept  their  word. 

CHAPTER  V. 

HOW    HEREWARD    SUCCOURED  THE    PRINCESS    OF   CORN- 
WALL  A    SECOND   TIME. 

FAT  was  the  feasting,  and  loud  was  the  harping,  in 
the  halls  of  Alef,  King  of  Gvveek.  Savoury  was  the 
smell  of  fried  pilchard  and  hake ;  more  savoury  still 
that  of  roast  porpoise  ;  most  savoury  of  all  that  of  fifty 
huge  squab  pies,  built  up  of  layers  of  apples,  bacon, 
onions,  and  mutton,  and  at  the  bottom  of  each  a  squab, 
or  young  cormorant,  which  diffused  both  through  the 
pie  and  through  the  ambient  air,  a  delicate  odour  of 
mingled  guano  and  polecat.  And  the  occasion  was 
worthy  alike  of  the  smell  and  of  the  noise  ;  for  King 
Alef,  finding  that  after  the  Ogre's  death  the 
neighbouring  kings  were  but  too  ready  to  make 
reprisals  on  him  for  his  champion's  murders  and 
robberies,  had  made  a  treaty  of  alliance  offensive  and 
defensive,  with  Hannibal  the  son  of  Gryll,  King  of 
Marazion,  and  had  confirmed  the  same  by  bestowing 
on  him  the  hand  of  his  fair  daughter.  Whether  she 
approved  of  the  match  or  not,  was  asked  neither  by 
King  Alef  nor  by  King  Hannibal. 


iia  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

To-night  was  the  bridal-feast.  To-morrow  morn- 
ing the  church  was  to  hallow  the  union,  and  after  that 
Hannibal  Grylls  was  to  lead  home  his  bride,  among  a 
gallant  company. 

And  as  they  ate  and  drank,  and  harped  and  piped, 
there  came  into  that  hall  four  shabbily  dressed  men — 
one  of  them  a  short,  broad  fellow,  with  black  elf-locks 
and  a  red  beard — and  sat  them  down  sneakingly  at 
the  very  lowest  end  of  all  the  benches. 

In  hospitable  Cornwall,  especially  on  such  a  day, 
every  guest  was  welcome ;  and  the  strangers  sat 
peaceably,  but  ate  nothing,  though  there  was  both 
hake  and  pilchard  within  reach. 

Next  to  them,  by  chance,  sat  a  great  lourdan  of  a 
Dane,  as  honest,  brave,  and  stupid  a  fellow  as  ever 
tugged  at  oar  ;  and  after  a  while  they  fell  talking,  till 
the  strangers  had  heard  the  reason  of  this  great  feast, 
and  all  the  news  of  the  country  side. 

"But  whence  did  they  come,  not  to  know  it 
already  ;  for  all  Cornwall  was  talking  thereof?  " 

' '  Oh  —  they  came  out  of  Devonshire,  seeking 
service  down  west,  with  some  merchant  or  rover, 
being  seafaring  men." 

The  stranger  with  the  black  hair  had  been,  mean- 
while, earnestly  watching  the  Princess,  who  sat  at  the 
board's  head.  He  saw  her  watching  him  in  return  ; 
and  with  a  face  sad  enough. 

At  last  she  burst  into  tears. 

"What  should  the  bride  weep  for,  at  such  a  merry 
wedding?"  asked  he  of  his  companion. 

"  Oh — cause  enough  ;  "  and  he  told  bluntly  enough 
the  Princess's  story.  "And  what  is  more,"  said  he, 
"the  King  of  Waterford  sent  a  ship  over  last  week, 
with  forty  proper  lads  on  board,  and  two  gallant 
Holders  with  them,  to  demand  her ;  but  for  all 
answer,  they  were  put  into  the  strong  house,  and 
there  they  lie,  chained  to  a  log,  at  this  minute.  Pity 
it  is,  and  shame,  I  hold,  for  I  am  a  Dane  myself; 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  113 

and  pity,  too,  that  such  a  bonny  lass  should  go  to 
an  unkempt  Welshman  like  this,  instead  of  a  tight 
smart  Viking's  son,  like  the  Waterford  lad." 

The  stranger  answered  nothing ;  but  kept  his  eyes 
upon  the  Princess,  till  she  looked  at  him  steadfastly 
in  return. 

She  turned  pale  and  red  again  ;  but  after  a  while 
she  spoke. 

"There  is  a  stranger  there;  and  what  his  rank 
may  be  I  know  not :  but  he  has  been  thrust  down 
to  the  lowest  seat,  in  a  house  that  used  to  honour 
strangers,  instead  of  treating  them  like  slaves.  Let 
him  take  this  dish  from  my  hand,  and  eat  joyfully, 
lest  when  he  goes  home  he  may  speak  scorn  of 
bridegroom  and  bride,  and  our  Cornish  weddings.'* 

The  servant  brought  the  dish  down :  he  gave  a 
look  at  the  stranger's  shabby  dress,  turned  up  his 
nose,  and  pretending  to  mistake,  put  the  dish  into 
the  hand  of  the  Dane. 

"  Hold,  lads,"  quoth  the  stranger.  "  If  I  have 
ears,  that  was  meant  for  me." 

He  seized  the  platter  with  both  hands ;  and  there- 
with the  hands  both  of  the  Cornishman  and  of  the 
Dane.  There  was  a  struggle :  but  so  bitter  was  the 
stranger's  gripe,  that  (says  the  chronicler)  the  blood 
burst  from  the  nails  of  both  his  opponents. 

He  was  called  a  "savage,"  a  "devil  in  man's 
shape,"  and  other  dainty  names,  but  he  was  left  to 
eat  his  squab  pie  in  peace. 

"Patience,  lads,"  quoth  he,  as  he  filled  his  mouth. 
"Before  I  take  my  pleasure  at  this. wedding,  I  will 
hand  my  own  dish  round  as  well  as  any  of  you." 

Whereat  men  wondered,  but  held  their  tongues. 

And  when  the  eating  was  over  and  the  drinking 
began,  the  Princess  rose,  and  came  round  to  drink 
the  farewell  health. 

With  her  maids  behind  her,  and  her  harper  before 
her  (so  was  the  Cornish  custom),  she  pledged  ODC  by 


ii4  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

one  each  of  the  guests,  slave  as  well  as  free,  while 
the  harper  played  a  tune. 

She  came  down  at  last  to  the  strangers.  Her  face 
was  pale,  and  her  eyes  red  with  weeping. 

She  filled  a  cup  of  wine,  and  one  of  her  maids 
offered  it  to  the  stranger. 

He  put  it  back  courteously,  but  firmly.  "  Not 
from  your  hand,"  said  he. 

A  growl  against  his  bad  manners  rose  straightway  ; 
and  the  minstrel,  who  (as  often  happened  in  those 
days)  was  jester  likewise,  made  merry  at  his  expense, 
and  advised  the  company  to  turn  the  wild  beast  out 
of  the  hall. 

"  Silence,  fool !  "  said  the  Princess.  "  Why  should 
he  know  our  west-country  ways?  He  may  take  it 
from  my  hand,  if  not  from  hers." 

And  she  held  out  to  him  the  cup  herself. 

He  took  it,  looking  her  steadily  in  the  face  ;  and  it 
seemed  to  the  minstrel  as  if  their  hands  lingered 
together  round  the  cup-handle,  and  that  he  saw  the 
glitter  of  a  ring. 

Like  many  another  of  his  craft  before  and  since, 
he  was  a  vain,  meddlesome  vagabond,  and  must 
needs  pry  into  a  secret  which  certainly  did  not 
concern  him. 

So  he  could  not  leave  the  stranger  in  peace  ;  and 
knowing  that  his  privileged  calling  protected  him 
from  that  formidable  fist,  he  never  passed  him  by 
without  a  sneer  or  a  jest,  as  he  wandered  round  the 
table,  offering  his  harp,  in  the  Cornish  fashion,  to 
any  one  who  wished  to  play  and  sing. 

"  But  not  to  you,  Sir  Elf-locks :  he  that  is  rude  to 
a  pretty  girl  when  she  offers  him  wine,  is  too  great  a 
boor  to  understand  my  trade." 

"  It  is  a  fool's  trick,"  answered  the  stranger  at  last, 
' '  to  put  off  what  you  must  do  at  last.  If  I  had  but 
the  time,  I  would  pay  you  for  your  tune  with  a  better 
one  than  you  ever  heard." 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  115 

"  Take  the  harp,  then,  boor !  "  said  the  minstrel, 
with  a  laugh  and  a  jest. 

The  stranger  took  it,  and  drew  from  it  such  music 
as  made  all  heads  turn  toward  him  at  once.  Then  he 
began  to  sing,  sometimes  by  himself;  and  sometimes 
his  comrades,  "  more  Girviorum  tripliciter  canentes," 
joined  their  voices  in  a  Penmen's  three-man-glee. 

In  vain  the  minstrel,  jealous  for  his  own  credit, 
tried  to  snatch  the  harp  away.  The  stranger  sang 
on,  till  all  hearts  were  softened;  and  the  Princess, 
taking  the  rich  shawl  from  her  shoulders,  threw  it 
over  those  of  the  stranger,  saying  that  it  was  a  gift 
too  poor  for  such  a  scald. 

"  Scald  !  "  roared  the  bridegroom  (now  well  in  his 
cups)  from  the  head  of  the  table;  "  ask  what  thou 
wilt,  short  of  my  bride  and  my  kingdom,  and  it  is 
thine." 

"  Give  me,  then,  Hannibal  Grylls,  King  of  Marazion, 
the  Danes  who  came  from  Ranald  of  Waterford." 

"  You  shall  have  them  !  Pity  that  you  have  asked 
for  nothing  better  than  such  tarry  ruffians." 

A  few  minutes  after,  the  minstrel,  bursting  with 
jealousy  and  rage,  was  whispering  in  Hannibal's  ear. 

The  hot  old  Punic  *  blood  flushed  up  in  his  cheeks 
and  his  thin  Punic  lips  curved  into  a  snaky  smile. 
Perhaps  the  old  Punic  treachery  in  his  heart;  for 
all  that  Hannibal  was  heard  to  reply  was,  "  We  must 
not  disturb  the  good-fellowship  of  a  Cornish  wedding." 

The  stranger,  nevertheless,  and  the  Princess  like- 
wise, had  seen  that  bitter  smile. 

Men  drank  hard  and  long  that  night  :  and  when 
daylight  came,  the  strangers  were  gone. 

In  the  morning  the  marriage  ceremony  was  per- 
formed; and  then  began  the  pageant  of  leading  home 
the  bride.  The  minstrels  went  first,  harping  and 
piping  :  then  King  Hannibal,  carrying  his  bride  behind 

1  Hannibal,  still  a  common  name  in  Cornwall,  is  held — and  not  unlikely — to 
have  been  introduced  there  by  ancient  Phoenician  colonUU. 


u6  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

him  on  a  pillion  ;  and  after  them  a  string  of  servants 
and  men-at-arms,  leading  country  ponies  laden  with 
the  bride's  dower.  Along  with  them,  unarmed,  sulky, 
and  suspicious,  walked  the  forty  Danes,  who  were 
informed  that  they  should  go  to  Marazion,  and  there 
be  shipped  off  for  Ireland. 

Now,  as  all  men  know,  those  parts  of  Cornwall, 
flat  and  open  furze-downs  aloft,  are  cut,  for  many 
miles  inland,  by  long  branches  of  tide  river,  walled 
in  by  woods  and  rocks  ;  and  by  crossing  one  or  more 
of  these,  the  bridal  party  would  save  many  a  mile 
on  their  road  towards  the  west. 

So  they  had  timed  their  journey  by  the  tides  ;  lest, 
finding  low  water  in  the  rivers,  they  should  have  to 
wade  to  the  ferry-boats  waist-deep  in  mud  ;  and  going 
down  the  steep  hillside,  through  oak,  and  ash,  and 
hazel-copse,  they  entered,  as  many  as  could,  a  great 
flat-bottomed  barge,  and  were  rowed  across  some 
quarter  of  a  mile,  to  land  under  a  jutting  crag,  and 
go  up  again  by  a  similar  path  into  the  woods. 

So  the  first  boat-load  went  up,  the  minstrels  in 
front,  harping  and  piping  till  the  greenwood  rang  ; 
King  Hannibal  next,  with  his  bride;  and  behind  him 
spear-men  and  axe-men,  with  a  Dane  between  every 
two. 

When  they  had  risen  some  two  hundred  feet,  and 
were  in  the  heart  of  the  forest,  Hannibal  turned,  and 
made  a  sign  to  the  men  behind  him. 

Then  each  pair  of  them  seized  the  Dane  between 
them,  and  began  to  bind  his  hands  behind  his  back. 

"  What  will  you  do  with  us?  " 

"  Send  you  back  to  Ireland, — a  king  never  breaks 
his  word, — but  pick  out  your  right  eyes  first,  to  show 
your  master  how  much  I  care  for  him.  Lucky  for 
you  that  I  leave  you  an  eye  apiece,  to  find  your  friend 
the  harper,  whom  if  I  catch,  I  flay  alive." 

"  You  promised  !  "  cried  the  Princess. 

"  And  so  did  you,  traitress  !  "  and  he  griped  her 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  117 

arm,  which  was  round  his  waist,  till  she  screamed. 
"  So  did  you  promise  :  but  not  to  me.  And  you  shall 
pass  your  bridal  night  in  my  dog-kennel,  after  my 
dog-whip  has  taught  you  not  to  give  rings  again  to 
wandering  harpers." 

The  wretched  Princess  shuddered  ;  for  she  knew 
too  well  that  such  an  atrocity  was  easy  and  common 
enough.  She  knew  it  well.  Why  should  she  not  ? 
The  story  of  the  Cid's  Daughters  and  the  Knights  of 
Carrion  ;  the  far  more  authentic  one  of  Robert  of 
Belesme  ;  and  many  another  ugly  tale  of  the  early 
middle  age,  will  prove  but  too  certainly  that,  before 
the  days  of  chivalry  began,  neither  youth,  beauty, 
nor  the  sacred  ties  of  matrimony,  could  protect  women 
from  the  most  horrible  outrages,  at  the  hands  of  those 
who  should  have  been  their  protectors. 

But  the  words  had  hardly  passed  the  lips  of  Hannibal, 
ere  he  reeled  in  the  saddle,  and  fell  to  the  ground 
with  a  javelin  through  his  heart. 

A  strong  arm  caught  the  Princess.  A  voice  which 
she  knew  bade  her  have  no  fear. 

"  Bind  your  horse  to  a  tree,  for  we  shall  want 
him  ;  and  wait." 

Three  well-armed  men  rushed  on  the  nearest  Cornish- 
men,  and  hewed  them  down.  A  fourth  unbound  the 
Dane,  and  bade  him  catch  up  a  weapon  and  fight 
for  his  life. 

A  second  pair  were  despatched,  a  second  Dane 
freed,  ere  a  minute  was  over ;  the  Cornishmen, 
struggling  up  the  narrow  path  toward  the  shouts 
above,  were  overpowered  in  detail  by  continually 
increasing  numbers  ;  and  ere  half  an  hour  was  over, 
the  whole  party  were  freed,  mounted  on  the  ponies, 
and  making  their  way  over  the  downs  toward  the  west. 

"Noble,  noble  Hereward  !— The  Wake  indeed!" 
said  the  Princess,  as  she  sat  behind  him  on  Hannibal's 
horse.  "  I  knew  you  from  the  first  moment  ;  and 
my  nurse  knew  you  too.  Is  she  here  ?  Is  she  safe  ?  " 


n8  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

"  I  have  taken  care  of  that.  She  has  done  us  too 
good  service  to  be  left  here  and  be  hanged." 

"  I  knew  you,  in  spite  of  your  hair,  by  your  eyes." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hereward.  *'  It  is  not  every  man  who 
carries  one  gray  eye  and  one  blue.  The  more  difficult 
for  me  to  go  mumming  when  I  need." 

"  But  how  came  you  hither,  of  all  places  in  the  world  ?" 

"When  you  sent  your  nurse  to  me  last  night,  to  warn 
me  that  treason  was  abroad,  it  was  easy  for  me  to 
ask  your  road  to  Marazion  ;  and  easier  too,  when  I 
found  that  you  would  go  home  the  very  way  we  came, 
to  know  that  I  must  make  my  stand  here  or  nowhere." 

"The  way  you  came?  Then  where  are  you  going 
now  ?  " 

"  Beyond  Marazion,  to  a  little  cove — I  cannot  tell 
its  name.  There  lies  Sigtryg,  your  betrothed,  and 
three  good  ships  of  war." 

"  There?     Why  did  he  not  come  tor  me  himself?  " 

"Why?  Because  we  knew  nothing1  of  what  was 
toward.  We  meant  to  have  sailed  straight  up  your 
river  to  your  father's  town,  and  taken  you  out  with  a 
high  hand.  We  had  sworn  an  oath — -which,  as  you 
saw,  I  kept — neither  to  eat  nor  drink  in  your  house, 
save  out  of  your  own  hands.  But  the  easterly  wind 
would  not  let  us  round  the  Lizard  ;  so  we  put  into 
that  cove,  and  there  I  and  these  two  lads,  my  nephews, 
offered  to  go  forward  as  spies,  while  Sigtryg  threw  up 
an  earthwork,  and  make  a  stand  against  the  Cornish. 
We  meant  merely  to  go  back  to  him,  and  give  him 
news.  But  when  I  found  you  as  good  as  wedded, 
I  had  to  do  what  I  could,  while  1  could  ;  and  I  have 
done  it,  like  a  Wake  as  I  am." 

"  You  have,  my  noble  and  true  champion,"  said  she, 
kissing  him. 

"  Humph  !  "  quoth  Hereward,  laughing.  Cl  Do  not 
tempt  me  by  being  too  grateful.  It  is  hard  enough 
to  gather  honey,  like  the  bees,  for  other  folks  to  eat. 
What  if  I  kept  you  myself,  now  I  have  got  you  ?  " 


HERE  WARD  THE  WAKE.  119 

"  Hereward  !  " 

"Oh,  there  is  no  fear,  pretty  lady.  I  have  other 
thing's  to  wake  over  than  making-  love  to  you — and 
one  is,  how  we  are  to  get  to  our  ships,  and,  moreover, 
past  Marazion  town." 

And  hard  work  they  had  to  get  thither.  The 
county  was  soon  roused  and  up  in  arms ;  and  it  was 
only  by  wandering-  a  three  days'  circuit,  through  bogs 
and  moors,  till  the  ponies  were  utterly  tired  out,  and 
left  behind  (the  bulkier  part  of  the  dowry  being  left 
with  them),  that  they  made  their  appearance  on  the 
shore  of  Mount's  Bay,  Hereward  leading  the  Princess 
in  triumph  upon  Hannibal's  horse. 

After  which  they  all  sailed  away  for  Ireland,  and 
there,  like  young  Beichan — 

Prepared  another  wedding1, 

With  all  their  hearts  so  full  of  glee. 

And  this  is  the  episode  of  the  Cornish  Princess,  as 
told  (the  outlines  of  it  at  least)  by  Richard  of  Ely, 
after  Leofric  the  mass-priest's  manuscript. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW   HEREWARD    WAS   WRECKED    UPON   THE   FLANDERS 
SHORE. 

HEREWARD  had  drunk  his  share  at  Sigtryg's  wedding. 
He  had  helped  to  harry  the  lands  of  Feargus  till  (as 
King  Ranald  had  threatened  (there  was  not  a  sucking 
pig  left  in  Ivark,  and  the  poor  folk  died  of  famine,  as 
they  did  about  every  seven  years  ;  he  had  burst  (says 
the  chronicler)  through  the  Irish  camp  with  a  chosen 
band  of  Berserkers,  slain  Feargus  in  his  tent,  brought 
off  his  war-horn  as  a  trophy,  and  cut  his  way  back  to 
the  Danish  army — a  feat  in  which  the  two  Siwarda 


i2o  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

were  grievously  wounded  ;-and  had  in  all  thing's  shown 
himself  a  daring  and  wakeful  captain,  as  careless  of 
his  own  life  as  of  other  folks'. 

Then  a  great  home-sickness  had  seized  him.  He 
would  go  back  and  see  the  old  house,  and  the  cattle 
pastures,  and  the  meres  and  fens  of  his  boyhood.  He 
would  see  his  widowed  mother.  Perhaps  her  heart 
was  softened  to  him  by  now,  as  his  was  toward  her  : 
and  if  not,  he  could  show  her  that  he  could  do  without 
her ;  that  others  thought  him  a  fine  fellow  if  she  did 
not.  Hereward  knew  that  he  had  won  honour  and 
glory  for  himself ;  that  The  Wake's  name  was  in  the 
mouths  of  all  warriors  and  sea-rovers  round  the  coasts 
as  the  most  likely  young  champion  of  the  time,  able 
to  rival,  if  he  had  the  opportunity,  the  prowess  of 
Harold  Hardraade  himself.  Yes,  he  would  go  and  see 
his  mother :  he  would  be  kind  if  she  was  kind  ;  if  she 
were  not,  he  would  boast  and  swagger,  as  he  was  but 
too  apt  to  do.  That  he  should  go  back  at  the  risk  of 
his  life ;  that  any  one  who  found  him  on  English 
ground  might  kill  him ;  and  that  many  would 
certainly  try  to  kill  him,  he  knew  very  well.  But  that 
only  gave  special  zest  to  the  adventure. 

Martin  Lightfoot  heard  this  news  with  joy. 

"  I  have  no  more  to  do  here,"  said  he.  "  I  have 
searched  and  asked  far  and  wide  for  the  man  I  want, 
but  he  is  not  on  the  Irish  shores.  Some  say  he  is  gone 
to  the  Orkneys,  some  to  Denmark.  Never  mind ;  I 
shall  find  him  before  I  die." 

"And  for  whom  art  looking? " 

"  For  one  Thord  Gunlaugsson,  my  father." 

"  And  what  wantest  thou  with  him  ?  " 

'•To  put  this  through  his  brain."  And  he  showed 
his  axe. 

"Thy  father's  brain?" 

"  Look  you,  lord.  A  man  owes  his  father  nought, 
and  his  mother  all.  At  least,  so  hold  I.  '  Man  that 
vj  of  woman  born,'  say  all  the  world ;  and  they  say 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  xai 

right.  Now,  if  any  man  hang  up  that  mother  by 
hands  and  feet,  and  flog  her  to  death,  is  not  he  that  is 
of  that  mother  born  bound  to  revenge  her  upon  any 
man,  and  all  the  more  if  that  man  had  first  his  wicked 
will  of  that  poor  mother  ?  Considering  that  last, 
lord,  I  do  not  know  but  what  I  am  bound  to  avenge 
my  mother's  shame  upon  the  man,  even  if  he  had 
never  killed  her.  No,  lord,  you  need  not  try  to  talk 
this  out  of  my  head.  It  has  been  there  nigh  twenty 
years  ;  and  I  say  it  over  to  myself  every  night  before 
I  sleep,  lest  I  should  forget  the  one  thing  which  I 
must  do  before  I  die.  Find  him  I  will,  and  find  him 
I  shall,  if  there  be  justice  in  heaven  above." 

So  Hereward  asked  Ranald  for  ships,  and  got  at  once 
two  good  vessels,  as  payment  for  his  doughty  deeds. 

One  he  christened  the  Garpike,  from  her  narrow 
build  and  long  beak,  and  the  other  the  Otter,  because, 
he  said,  whatever  she  grappled  she  would  never  let  go 
till  she  heard  the  bones  crack.  They  were  excellent 
new  "snekrs,"  nearly  eighty  feet  long  each;  with 
double  banks  for  twelve  oars  a-side  in  the  waist,  which 
was  open,  save  a  fighting  gangway  along  the  sides  ; 
with  high  poop  and  forecastle  decks  ;  and  with  one 
large  sail  apiece,  embroidered  by  Sigtryg's  princess 
and  the  other  ladies  with  a  huge  white  bear,  which 
Hereward  had  chosen  as  his  ensign. 

As  for  men,  there  were  fifty  fellows  as  desperate  as 
Hereward  himself,  to  take  service  with  him  for  that  or 
any  other  quest.  So  they  ballasted  their  ships  with 
great  pebbles,  stowed  under  the  thwarts,  to  be  used 
as  ammunition  in  case  of  boarding  ;  and  over  them 
the  barrels  of  ale,  and  pork,  and  meal,  well  covered 
with  tarpaulins.  They  stowed  in  the  cabins  fore  and 
aft  their  weapons — swords,  spears,  axes,  bows,  chests 
of  arrow-heads,  leather  bags  of  bowstrings,  mail-shirts, 
and  helmets,  and  fine  clothes  for  holidays  and  fighting 
days.  They  hung  their  shields,  after  the  old  fashion, 
out-board  along  the  gunnel,  and  a  right  gay  show 


iaa  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

they  made ;  and  so  rowed  out  of  Waterford  harbour 
amid  the  tears  of  the  ladies  and  the  cheers  of  the  men. 

But,  as  it  befell,  the  voyage  did  not  prosper. 
Hereward  found  his  vessels  under-manned,  and  had 
to  sail  northward  for  fresh  hands.  He  got  none  in 
Dublin,  for  they  were  all  gone  to  the  Welsh  marches 
to  help  Earl  Alfgar  and  King1  Griffin.  So  he  went  on 
through  the  Hebrides,  intending,  of  course,  to  plunder 
as  he  went :  but  there  he  got  but  little  booty,  and 
lost  several  men.  So  he  went  on  again  to  the  Orkneys 
to  try  for  fresh  hands  from  the  Norse  earls  thereof : 
but  there  befell  a  fresh  mishap.  They  were  followed 
by  a  whale,  which  they  made  sure  was  a  witch-whale, 
and  boded  more  ill  luck ;  and  accordingly  they  were 
struck  by  a  storm  in  the  Pentland  Firth,  and  the  poor 
Garpike  went  on  shore  on  Hoy,  and  was  left  there 
for  ever  and  a  day,  her  crew  being  hardly  saved,  and 
very  little  of  her  cargo. 

However,  the  Otter  was  now  not  only  manned,  buc 
over-manned  ;  and  Hereward  had  to  leave  a  dozer, 
stout  fellows  with  Earl  Bruce  in  Kirkwall,  and  sailed 
southward  again,  singing  cheerily  to  his  men : 

Lightly  the  Jong-snake 

Leaps  after  tempests, 

Gaily  the  sun-gleam 

Glows  after  rain. 

In  labour  and  daringf 

Lies  luck  for  all  mortals, 

Foul  winds  and  foul  witch-wives 

Fray  women  alone. 

But  their  mishaps  were  not  over  yet.  They  were 
hardly  out  of  Stronsay  Firth  when  they  saw  the  witch- 
whale  again,  following  them  up,  rolling-,  and  spouting, 
and  breaching,  in  most  uncanny  wise.  Some  said 
that  they  saw  a  gray  woman  on  his  back  ;  and  they 
knew,  possibly  from  the  look  of  the  sky,  but  certainly 
from  the  whale's  behaviour,  that  there  was  more  heavy 
weather  yet  coming  from  the  northward. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  123 

From  that  day  forward  the  whale  never  left  them, 
nor  the  wild  weather  neither.  They  were  beaten  out 
of  all  reckoning-.  Once  they  thought  they  saw  low 
land  to  the  eastward,  but  what  or  where,  who  could 
tell  ?  and  as  for  making-  it,  the  wind,  which  had  blown 
hard  from  north-east,  backed  against  the  sun  and  blew 
from  west ;  from  which,  as  well  as  from  the  witch- 
whale,  they  expected  another  gale  from  north  and 
round  to  north-east. 

The  men  grew  sulky  and  fearful.  Some  were  for 
trying  to  run  the  witch  down  and  break  her  back,  as 
did  Frithiof  in  like  case,  when  hunted  by  a  whale  with 
two  hags  upon  his  back — an  excellent  recipe  in  such 
cases,  but  somewhat  difficult  in  a  heavy  sea.  Others 
said  that  there  was  a  doomed  man  on  board,  and 
proposed  to  cast  lots  till  they  found  him  out,  and  cast 
him  into  the  sea,  as  a  sacrifice  to  ^Egir.  the  wave-god. 
But  Hereward  scouted  that  as  unmanly  aud  cowardly, 
and  sang : 

With  blood  of  my  bold  ones, 
With  bale  of  my  comrades, 
Thinks  ^Eg'ir,  brine-thirsty, 
His  throat  he  can  slake? 
Though  salt  spray,  shrill-sounding-, 
Sweep  round  in  swan's-flights, 
True  hearts,  troth-plighted, 
Together  we'll  die. 

At  last,  after  many  days,  their  strength  was  all  but 
worn  out.  They  had  long  since  given  over  rowing, 
i  and  contented  themselves  with  running  under  a  close- 
reefed  canvas  whithersoever  the  storm  should  choose. 
At  night  a  sea  broke  over  them,  and  would  have 
swamped  the  Otter,  had  she  not  been  the  best  of  sea- 
boats.  But  she  only  rolled  the  lee  shields  into  the 
water  and  out  again,  shook  herself,  and  went  oa. 
Nevertheless,  there  were  three  men  on  the  poop  whei> 
the  sea  came  in,  who  were  not  there  when  it  went  out. 

Wet    and    wild    dawned    that    morning-,    showing 


124  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

naught    but    gray   sea    and    gray    air.      Then   sang 
Hereward  : 

Cheerly,  my  sea-cocks, 
Crow  from  the  day-dawn. 
Weary  and  wet  are  we, 
Water  beladen. 
Wetter  our  comrades, 
Whelmed  by  the  witch-whales. 
Us  ^Egir  granted 
Grudging,  to  Gondul, 
Doomed  to  die  dry-shod, 
Daring-  the  foe. 

Whereat  the  hearts  of  the  men  were  much  cheered. 

All  of  a  sudden,  as  is  the  wont  of  gales  at  dawn,  the 
clouds  rose,  tore  up  into  ribands,  and  with  a  fierce 
black  shower  or  two,  blew  clean  away ;  disclosing  a 
bright  blue  sky,  a  green  rolling  sea,  and  a  few  miles 
off  to  leeward  a  pale  yellow  line,  seen  only  as  they 
topped  a  wave,  but  seen  only  too  well.  To  keep  the 
ship  off  shore  was  impossible  ;  and  as  they  drifted 
nearer  and  nearer,  the  line  of  sand-hills  rose,  uglier  and 
more  formidable,  through  the  gray  spray  of  the  surf. 

"We  shall  die  on  shore,  but  not  dry-shod,"  said 
Martin.  "Do  any  of  you  knights  of  the  tar  brush 
know  whether  we  are  going  to  be  drowned  in 
Christian  waters?  I  should  like  a  mass  or  two  for 
my  soul,  and  shall  die  the  happier  within  sight  of  a 
church  tower." 

"  One  dune  is  as  like  another,  as  one  pea  ;  we  may 
be  anywhere  between  the  Texel  and  Cap  Gris  Nez, 
but  I  think  nearer  the  latter  than  the  former." 

"So  much  the  worse  for  us,"  said  another.  "If 
we  had  gone  ashore  among  those  Frieslanders,  we 
should  have  been  only  knocked  on  the  head  out- 
right ;  but  if  we  fall  among  the  Frenchmen  we  shall 
be  clapped  in  prison  strong,  and  tortured  till  we  find 
ransom." 

"I  don't  see  that,"  said  Martin.  "  We'can  all  be 
drowned  if  we  like,  I  suppose  ?  " 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  125 

"  Drowned  we  need  not  be,  if  we  be  men,"  said  the 
old  sailing-master  to  Hereward.  "The  tide  is  full 
high,  and  that  gives  us  one  chance  for  our  lives. 
Keep  her  head  straight,  and  row  like  fiends  when  we 
are  once  in  the  surf,  and  then  beach  her  up  high  and 
dry,  and  take  what  befalls  after." 

And  what  was  likely  to  befall  was  ugly  enough. 
Then,  as  centuries  after,  all  wrecks  and  wrecked  men 
were  public  prey  ;  shipwrecked  mariners  were  liable  to 
be  sold  as  slaves  ;  and  the  petty  Counts  of  the  French 
and  Flemish  shores  were  but  too  likely  to  extract 
ransom  by  prison  and  torture,  as  Guy,  Earl  of  Ponthieu, 
would  have  done  (so  at  least  William,  Duke  of 
Normandy,  hinted)  by  Harold  Godwinsson,  had  not 
William,  for  his  own  politic  ends,  begged  the  release 
of  the  shipwrecked  Earl. 

Already  they  had  been  seen  from  the  beach. 
The  country  folk,  who  were  prowling  about  the 
shore  after  the  waifs  of  the  storm,  deserted  jetsom 
and  lagend,  and  crowded  to  meet  the  richer  prize 
which  was  coming  in  flotsom,  to  become  jetsom  in  its 
turn. 

"Axe-men  and  bow-men,  put  on  your  harness,  and 
be  ready  ;  but  neither  strike  nor  shoot  till  I  give  the 
word.  We  must  land  peaceably  if  we  can  :  if  not,  we 
will  die  fighting." 

So  said  Hereward,  and  took  the  rudder  into  his 
own  hand.  "Now  then,"  as  she  rushed  into  the 
breakers,  "  pull  together,  rowers  all,  and  with  a 
will." 

The  men  yelled,  and  sprang  from  the  thwarts  as  they 
tugged  at  the  oars.  The  sea  boiled  past  them,  surged 
into  the  waist,  blinded  them  with  spray.  The  Otter 
grazed  the  sand  once,  twice,  thrice,  leaping  forward 
gallantly  each  time ;  and  then,  pressed  by  a  huge 
wave,  drove  high  and  dry  upon  the  beach,  as  the  oars 
snapped  right  and  left,  and  the  men  tumbled  over  each 
other  in  heaps. 


126  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

The  peasants  swarmed  down  like  flies  to  a  cai 
but  they  recoiled  as  there  rose  over  the  forecastle- 
bulwarks,  not  the  broad  hats  of  peaceful  buscarles, 
but  peaked  helmets,  round  red  shields,  and  glittering 
axes.  They  drew  back,  and  one  or  two  arrows  flew 
from  the  crowd  into  the  ship.  But  at  Hereward's 
command  no  arrows  were  shot  in  answer. 

"  Bale  her  out  quietly;  and  let  us  show  these  fellows 
that  we  are  not  afraid  of  them.  That  is  the  best 
chance  of  peace." 

At  this  moment  a  mounted  party  came  down  between 
the  sand-hills  :  it  might  be,  some  twenty  strong.  Be- 
fore them  rode  a  boy  on  a  jennet,  and  by  him  a  clerk, 
as  he  seemed,  upon  a  mule.  They  stopped  to  talk 
with  the  peasants,  and  then  to  consult  among  them- 
selves. 

Suddenly  the  boy  turned  from  his  party;  and  gallop- 
ing down  the  shore,  while  the  clerk  called  after  him  in 
vain,  reined  up  his  horse  fetlock  deep  in  water,  within 
ten  vards  of  the  ship's  bows. 

"Yield  yourselves  !  "  he  shouted  in  French,  as  he 
brandished  a  hunting  spear.  "  Yield  yourselves,  or 
die  !  " 

Hereward  looked  at  him  smiling,  as  he  sat  there, 
keeping  the  head  of  his  frightened  horse  toward  the 
ship  with  hand  and  heel,  his  long  locks  streaming  in 
the  wind,  his  face  full  of  courage  and  command,  and 
of  honesty  and  sweetness  withal;  and  thought  that 
he  had  never  seen  so  fair  a  lad. 

"  And  who  art  thou,  thou  pretty  bold  boy?  "  asked 
Hereward,  in  French. 

"  I,"  said  he,  haughtily  enough,  as  resenting  Here- 
ward's  familiar  "thou, "'"am  Arnoul,1  grandson  and 
heir  of  Baldwin,  Marquis  of  Flanders  and  lord  of  this. 

1  The  French  language  was  at  this  epoch  taking  the  place  of  the  Teutonic  in 
Southern  Flanders :  and  the  boy  would  call  himself  Arnoul,  while  old  men  would 
perstet  ta  calling  him  Arnnlf ,  after  the  fashion  of  that  Count  of  Giiines,  who, 
when  upon  his  death-bed,  heard  his  nephew  speak  to  him  in  French,  and  told 
him  that  he  had  no  more  time  for  trifles  and  jests — Nugfc  et  jocis  se  non  posse 
vacare.  I^amb.  Ard.  in  Kervyn  de  Lettenhaven  Hist,  de  Flandre. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.          •     127 

land.  And  to  his  grace  I  call  on  you  to  surrender 
yourselves." 

Hereward  looked,  not  only  with  interest,  but  respect, 
upon  the  grandson  of  one  of  the  most  famous  and 
prosperous  of  northern  potentates,  the  descendant  of 
the  mighty  Charlemagne  himself.  He  turned  and  told 
the  men  who  the  boy  was. 

"  It  would  be  a  good  trick,"  quoth  one,  "to  catch 
that  young1  whelp,  and  keep  him  as  a  hostage." 

"  Here  is  what  will  have  him  on  board  before  he  can 
turn,"  said  another,  as  he  made  a  running-noose  in 
a  rope. 

"  Quiet,  men  !     Am  I  master  in  this  ship,  or  you  ?  " 

Hereward  saluted  the  lad  courteously.  "  Verily  the 
blood  of  Baldwin  of  the  Iron  Arm  has  not  degenerated.  I 
am  happy  to  behold  so  noble  a  son,  of  so  noble  a  race." 

"And  who  are  you,  who  speak  French  so  well,  and 
yet  by  your  dress  are  neither  French  nor  Fleming  ?  " 

"  I  am  Harold  Naemansson,  the  Viking  ;  and  these 
my  men.  I  am  here,  sailing  peaceably  for  England  ; 
as  for  yielding — mine  yield  to  no  living  man,  but  die 
as  we  are,  weapon  in  hand.  I  have  heard  of  your 
grandfather,  that  he  is  a  just  man  and  a  bountiful  ; 
therefore  take  this  message  to  him,  young  sir.  If  he 
have  wars  toward,  I  and  my  men  will  fight  for  him 
with  all  our  might,  and  earn  hospitality  and  ransom 
with  our  only  treasure*  which  is  our  sword.  But  if  he 
be  at  peace,  then  let  him  bid  us  go  in  peace,  for  we 
are  Vikings,  and  must  fight,  or  rot  and  die." 

"You  are  Vikings?"  cried  the  boy,  pressing  his 
horse  into  the  foam  so  eagerly,  that  the  men,  mistak- 
ing his  intent,  had  to  be  repressed  again  by  Hereward. 
"  You  are  Vikings  !  Then  come  on  shore,  and  wel- 
come. You  shall  be  my  friends.  You  shall  be  my 
brothers.  I  will  answer  to  my  grandfather  I  have 
longed  to  see  Vikings.  I  long  to  be  a  Viking  myself." 

"  By  the  hammer  of  Thor,"  cried  the  old  master, 
"  and  thou  wouldst  make  a  bonny  one,  my  lad." 


i28  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

Hereward  hesitated;  delighted  with  the  boy,  but  by 
no  means  sure  of  his  power  to  protect  them. 

But  the  boy  rode  back  to  his  companions,  and  talked 
and  gesticulated  eagerly. 

Then  the  clerk  rode  down,  and  talked  with 
Hereward. 

"  Are  you  Christians?  "  shouted  he,  before  he  would 
adventure  himself  near  the  ship. 

"  Christians  we  are,  Sir  Clerk,  and  dare  do  no  harm 
to  a  man  of  God." 

The  clerk  rode  nearer;  his  handsome  palfrey,  furrey 
cloak,  rich  gloves,  and  boots,  moreover,  his  air  of 
command,  showed  that  he  was  no  common  man. 

"I,"  said  he,  "  am  the  Abbot  of  St.  Bertin  of  Sithiu, 
and  tutor  of  yonder  prince.  I  can  bring  down,  at  a 
word,  against  you,  the  chatelain  of  St.  Omer  with  all 
his  knights,  beside  knights  and  men-at-arms  of  my 
own.  But  I  am  a  man  of  peace,  and  not  of  war;  and 
would  have  no  blood  shed  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  Then  make  peace,"  said  Hereward.  "  Your  lord 
may  kill  us  if  he  will,  or  have  us  for  his  guests  if 
he  will.  If  he  does  the  first,  we  shah1  kill,  each  of 
us,  a  few  of  his  men  before  we  die;  if  the  latter, 
we  shall  kill  a  few  of  his  foes.  If  you  be  a  man  of 
God,  you  will  counsel  him  accordingly." 

"  Alas  !  alas  !  "  said  the  Abbot,  with  a  shudder, 
"  that,  ever  since  Adam's  fall,  sinful  man  should 
talk  of  nothing  but  slaying  and  being  slain;  not 
knowing  that  his  soul  is  slain  already  by  sin,  and 
that  a  worse  death  awaits  him  hereafter  than  that 
death  of  the  body,  of  which  he  makes  so  light !  " 

"A  very  good  sermon,  my  Lord  Abbot,  to  listen 
to  next  Sunday  morning:  but  we  are  hungry,  and 
wet,  and  desperate  just  now;  and  if  you  do  not 
settle  this  matter  for  us,  our  blood  will  be  on  your 
head — and  maybe  your  own  likewise." 

The  Abbot  rode  out  of  the  water  faster  than  he 
had  ridden  in;  and  a  fresh  consultation  ensued,  after 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  129 

which  the  boy,  with  a  warning  gesture  to  his 
companions,  turned  and  galloped  away  through  the 
sand-hills. 

"He  is  gone  to  his  grandfather  himself,  I  verily 
believe,"  quoth  Hereward. 

They  waited  for  some  two  hours,  unmolested  ;  and, 
true  to  their  policy  of  seeming  recklessness,  shifted 
and  dried  themselves  as  well  as  they  could ;  ate 
what  provisions  were  unspoilt  by  the  salt  water, 
and,  broaching  the  last  barrel  of  ale,  drank  healths 
to  each  other  and  to  the  Flemings  on  shore. 

At  last  down  rode  with  the  boy  a  noble-looking 
man,  and  behind  him  knights  and  men-at-arms.  He 
announced  himself  as  the  Chatelain  of  St.  Omer,1  and 
repeated  the  demand  to  surrender. 

"There  is  no  need  for  it,"  said  Hereward.  "We 
are  already  that  young  prince's  guests.  He  has  said 
that  we  shall  be  his  friends  and  brothers.  He  has 
said  that  he  will  answer  to  his  grandfather,  the  great 
Marquis,  whom  I  and  mine  shall  be  proud  to  serve. 
I  claim  the  word  of  a  descendant  of  Charlemagne." 

"  And  you  shall  have  it !  "  cried  the  boy.  "  Chate- 
lain !  Abbot !  these  men  are  mine.  They  shall  come 
with  me,  and  lodge  in  St.  Bertin." 

"  Heaven  forfend  !  "  murmured  the  Abbot. 

"They  will  be  safe,  at  least,  within  your  ramparts," 
whispered  the  Chatelain. 

"And  they  shall  tell  me  about  the  sea.  Have 
I  not  told  you  how  I  longed  for  Vikings ;  how  I 
will  have  Vikings  of  my  own,  and  sail  the  seas 
with  them,  like  my  uncle  Robert,  and  go  to  Spain 
and  fight  the  Moors,  and  to  Constantinople  and  marry 
the  kaiser's  daughter?  Come,"  he  cried  to  Hereward, 
"come  on  shore,  and  he  that  touches  you  or  your 
ship,  touches  me  !  " 

1  The  chronicler  says,  "  Manasar  Count  of  that  land."  But  1  can  find  no 
such  person  in  history.  There  was  a  Manasses,  Count  of  Guisnes,  about  that 
time ;  but,  as  will  be  seen,  it  could  not  have  been  he  who  received  Hereward. 
I  have  supposed,  therefore,  as  most  probable,  that  the  act  was  that  of  the 
Chptelain  of  St.  Omer.  One  Waleric  held  that  post  in  1072. 

H.W.  H 


:3o  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"Sir  Chatelain  and  my  Lord  Abbot,"  said  Here- 
ward,  ''you  see  that,  Viking1  though  I  be,  I  am  no 
barbarous  heathen,  but  a  French-speaking  gentleman 
like  yourselves.  It  had  been  easy  for  me,  had  I 
not  been  a  man  of  honour,  to  have  cast  a  rope,  as 
my  sailors  would  have  had  me  do,  over  that  young 
boy's  fair  head,  and  haled  him  on  board,  to  answer 
for  my  life  with  his  own.  But  I  loved  him  at  first 
sight,  and  trusted  him,  as  I  would  an  angel  out 
of  heaven ;  and  I  trust  him  still.  To  him,  and 
him  only,  will  I  yield  myself,  on  condition  that  I 
and  my  men  shall  keep  all  our  arms  and  treasure, 
and  enter  his  service,  to  fight  his  foes  and  his 
grandfather's,  wheresoever  they  will,  by  land  or  sea." 

"Fair  sir,"  said  the  Abbot,  "pirate  though  you 
call  yourself,  you  speak  so  courtly  and  clerkly,  that 
I,  too,  am  inclined  to  trust  you  ;  and  if  my  young 
lord  will  have  it  so,  into  St.  Bertin  I  will  receive 
you,  till  our  lord  the  Marquis  shall  give  orders  about 
you  and  yours." 

So  promises  were  given  all  round ;  and  Hereward 
explained  the  matter  to  the  men,  without  whose  advice 
(for  they  were  all  as  free  as  himself)  he  could  not  act. 

"  Needs  must,"  grunted  they,  as  they  packed  up 
each  his  little  valuables. 

Then  Hereward  sheathed  his  sword,  and  leaping 
from  the  bow,  came  up  to  the  boy. 

"Put  your  hands  between  his,  fair  sir,"  said  the 
Chatelain. 

"  That  is  not  the  manner  of  Vikings." 

And  he  took  the  boy's  right  hand,  and  grasped  it 
in  the  plain  English  fashion. 

"  There  is  the  hand  of  an  honest  man.  Come  down, 
men,  if  you  be  wise  ;  and  take  this  young  lord's  hand, 
and  serve  him  in  the  wars ;  as  I  shall  do." 

One  by  one  the  men  came  down  ;  and  each  took 
Arnoul's  hand,  and  shook  it  till  the  lad's  face  grew 
red.  But  none  of  them  bowed,  or  made  obeisance. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  131 

They  looked  the  boy  full  in  the  face,  and  as  they 
stepped  back,  stared  round  upon  the  ring  of  armed 
men  with  a  smile  and  something  of  a  swagger. 

"  These  are  they  who  bow  to  no  man,  and  call 
no  man  master,"  whispered  the  Abbot. 

And  so  they  were  :  and  so  are  their  descendants 
of  Scotland  and  Northumbria,  unto  this  very  day. 

The  boy  sprang  from  his  horse,  and  walked  among 
them  and  round  them  in  delight.  He  admired  and 
handled  their  double  axes;  their  short  sea-bows  of 
horn  and  deer-sinew;  their  red  Danish  coats;  their 
black  sea-cloaks,  fastened  on  the  shoulder  with  rich 
brooches;  and  the  gold  and  silver  bracelets  on  their 
wrists.  He  wondered  at  their  long  shaggy  beards, 
and  still  more  at  the  blue  patterns  with  which  the 
English  among  them,  Hereward  especially,  were 
tattooed  on  throat,  and  arm,  and  knee. 

"  Yes,  you  are  Vikings — just  such  as  my  uncle 
Robert  tells  me  of." 

Hereward  knew  well  the  exploits  of  Robert  le 
Prison  in  Spain  and  Greece.  "  I  trust  that  your  noble 
uncle,"  he  asked,  "is  well?  He  was  one  of  us  poor 
sea-cocks,  and  sailed  the  swan's  path  gallantly,  till  he 
became  a  mighty  prince.  Here  is  a  man  here  who 
was  with  your  noble  uncle  in  Spain." 

And  he  thrust  forward  the  old  master. 

The  boy's  delight  knew  no  bounds.  He  should  tell 
him  all  about  that  in  St.  Bertin. 

Then  he  rode  back  to  the  ship,  and  round  and  round 
her  (for  the  tide  by  that  time  had  left  her  high  and 
dry),  and  wondered  at  her  long  snake-like  lines,  and 
carven  stem  and  stern. 

"  Tell  me  about  this  ship.  Let  me  go  on  board  of 
her.  I  have  never  seen  a  ship  inland  at  Mons  there; 
and  even  here  there  are  only  heavy  ugly  busses,  and 
little  fishing-boats.  No.  You  must  be  all  hungry 
and  tired.  We  will  go  to  St.  Bertin  at  once,  and  you 
shall  be  feasted  royally.  Hearken,  villains  !  "  shouted 


i32  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

he  to  the  peasants.  "This  ship  belongs  to  the  fair 
sir  here — my  guest  and  friend  ;  and  if  any  man  dares 
to  steal  from  her  a  stave  or  a  nail  I  will  have  his 
thief s  hand  cut  off." 

"The  ship,  fair  lord,"  said  Hereward,  "is  yours, 
not  mine.  You  should  build  twenty  more  after  her 
pattern,  and  man  them  with  such  lads  as  these,  and 
then  go  down  to 

"  Miklagard  and  Spanialand, 
That  lie  so  far  on  the  lee,  O  ! 

as  did  your  noble  uncle  before  you." 

And  so  they  marched  inland,  after  the  boy  had  dis- 
mounted one  of  his  men,  and  put  Hereward  on  the 
horse. 

"  You  gentlemen  of  the  sea  can  ride  as  well  as  sail," 
said  the  Chatelain,  as  he  remarked  with  some  surprise 
Hereward's  perfect  seat  and  hand. 

"  We  should  soon  learn  to  fly  likewise,"  laughed 
Hereward,  ' '  if  there  were  any  booty  to  be  picked  up 
in  the  clouds  there  overhead  ;  "  and  he  rode  on  by 
Arnoul's  side,  as  the  lad  questioned  him  about  the 
sea,  and  nothing  else. 

"Ah,  my  fair  boy,"  said  Hereward  at  last,  "look 
there,  and  let  those  be  Vikings  who  must." 

And  he  pointed  to  the  rich  pastures,  broken  by 
strips  of  cornland  and  snug  farms,  which  stretched 
between  the  sea  and  the  great  forest  of  Flanders. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

But  Hereward  was  silent.  It  was  so  like  his  own 
native  fens.  For  a  moment  there  came  over  him  the 
longing  for  a  home.  To  settle  down  in  such  a  fair  fat 
land  ;  and  call  good  acres  his  own  ;  and  marry ;  and 
beget  stalwart  sons,  to  till  the  old  estate  when  he 
could  till  no  more. — Might  not  that  be  a  better  life — 
at  least  a  happier  one — than  restless,  homeless,  aim- 
less adventure  ?  And  now — just  as  he  had  had  a  hope 
of  peace — a  hope  of  seeing  his  own  land,  his  own  folk, 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  133 

perhaps  of  making  peace  with  his  mother  and  his 
king ;  the  very  waves  would  not  let  him  rest,  but 
sped  him  forth,  a  storm-tossed  waif,  to  begin  life 
anew,  fighting  he  cared  not  whom  or  why,  in  a 
strange  land. 

So  he  was  silent  and  sad  withal. 

"What  does  he  mean?"  asked  the  boy  of  the 
Abbot. 

"  He  seems  a  wise  man  :  let  him  answer  for  him- 
self." 

The  boy  asked  once  more. 

"Lad!  lad!"  said  Hereward,  waking  as  from  a 
dream.  "  If  you  be  heir  to  such  a  fair  land  as  that, 
thank  God  there  ;  and  pray  to  Him  that  you  may  rule 
it  justly,  and  keep  it  in  peace,  as  they  say  your  grand- 
father and  your  father  do  :  and  leave  glory,  and  fame, 
and  the  Vikings'  bloody  trade,  to  those  who  have 
neither  father  nor  mother,  wife  nor  land,  but  live  like 
the  wolf  of  the  wood,  from  one  meal  to  the  next." 

"  I  thank  you  for  those  words,  Sieur  Heraud,"  said 
the  good  Abbot,  while  the  boy  went  on  abashed, 
and  Hereward  himself  was  startled  at  his  own  saying, 
and  rode  silent  till  they  crossed  the  drawbridge  of 
St.  Bertin,  and  entered  that  ancient  fortress,  so  strong 
that  it  was  the  hiding-place  in  war  time  for  all  the 
treasures  of  the  country,  and  so  sacred  withal  that  no 
woman,  dead  or  alive,  was  allowed  to  defile  it  by  her 
presence  ;  so  that  the  wife  of  Baldwin  the  Bold, 
ancestor  of  Arnoul,  wishing  to  be  buried  by  the 
side  of  her  husband,  had  to  remove  his  corpse  from 
St.  Bertin  to  the  Abbey  of  Blandigny,  where  the  Counts 
of  Flanders  lay  in  glory  for  many  a  generation. 

The  pirates  entered,  not  without  gloomy  distrust, 
the  gates  of  that  consecrated  fortress  ;  while  the 
monks  in  their  turn  were  (and  with  some  reason) 
considerably  frightened  when  they  were  asked  to 
entertain  as  guests  forty  Norse  rovers.  Loudly  did 
the  elder  among  them  bewail  (in  Latin,  lest  their 


134  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

guests  should  understand  too  much)  the  present 
weakness  of  their  monastery,  where  St.  Berlin  and 
St.  Omer  were  left  to  defend  themselves  and  their 
monks  against  the  wicked  world  outside.  Far 
different  had  been  their  case  some  hundred  and  seventy 
years  before.  Then  St.  Valeri  and  St.  Riquier  of 
Ponthieu,  transported  thither  from  their  own  resting- 
places  in  France  for  fear  of  the  invading  Northmen, 
had  joined  their  suffrages  and  merits  to  those  of 
St.  Bertin  and  his  whilom  servants,  with  such  success 
that  the  abbey  had  never  been  denied  by  the  foot  of 
the  heathen.  But  alas !  the  saints  (that  is,  their 
bodies),  after  awhile  became  home-sick;  and  St. 
Valeri,  appearing  in  a  dream  to  Hugh  Capet,  bade 
him  bring  them  back  to  France  in  spite  of  Arnulf, 
Count  of  those  parts,  who  wished  much  to  retain  so 
valuable  an  addition  to  his  household  gods. 

But  in  vain.  Hugh  Capet  was  a  man  who  took 
few  denials.  With  knights  and  men-at-arms  he  came, 
and  Count  Arnulf  had  to  send  home  the  holy  corpses 
with  all  humility,  and  leave  St.  Bertin  and  St.  Omer 
to  themselves. 

Whereon  St.  Valeri  appeared  in  a  dream  to  Hugh 
Capet,  and  said  unto  him,  "  Because  thou  hast 
zealously  done  what  I  commanded,  thou  and  thy 
successors  shall  reign  in  the  kingdom  of  France  to 
everlasting  generations."  1 

However,  there  was  no  refusing  the  grandson  and 
heir  of  Count  Baldwin;  and  the  hearts  of  the  monks 
were  comforted  by  hearing  that  Hereward  was  a  good 
Christian,  and  that  most  of  his  crew  had  been  at  least 
baptized.  The  Abbot  therefore  took  courage,  and 
admitted  them  into  the  hospice,  with  solemn  warnings 
as  to  the  doom  which  they  might  expect  if  they  took 
the  value  of  a  horse-nail  from  the  patrimony  of  the 
blessed  saint.  Was  he  less  powerful  or  less  careful  of 

'  Histoirt  des  Gomits  d*  Flandre,  par  E.  1«  Clay.    E  gestis  SS.  Rlcharii  et 

Walerid. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  135 

his  own  honour  than  St.  Lieven  of  Holthem,  who,  not 
more  than  fifty  years  before,  had  struck  stone-blind 
four  soldiers  of  the  Emperor  Henry's,  who  had  dared, 
after  warning,  to  plunder  the  altar  ?  l  Let  them 
remember,  too,  the  fate  of  their  own  forefathers,  the 
heathens  of  the  North,  and  the  check  which,  one 
hundred  and  seventy  years  before,  they  had  received 
under  those  very  walls.  They  had  exterminated  the 
people  of  Walcheren  ;  they  had  taken  prisoner  Count 
Regnier ;  they  had  burnt  Ghent,  Bruges,  and  St. 
Omer  itself,  close  by ;  they  had  left  nought  between 
the  Scheldt  and  the  Somme  save  stark  corpses  and 
blackened  ruins.  What  could  withstand  them  till 
they  dared  to  lift  audacious  hands  against  the  heavenly 
lord  who  sleeps  there  in  Sithiu  ?  Then  they  poured 
down  in  vain  over  the  Heilig-Veld,  innumerable  as  the 
locusts.  Poor  monks,  strong  in  the  protection  of  the 
holy  Bertin,  sallied  out  and  smote  them  hip  and  thigh, 
singing  their  psalms  the  while.  The  ditches  of  the 
fortress  were  filled  with  unbaptized  corpses  ;  the  piles 
of  vine-twigs  which  they  lighted  to  burn  down  the 
gates,  turned  their  flames  into  the  Norsemen's  faces 
at  the  bidding  of  St.  Bertin  ;  and  they  fled  from  that 
temporal  fire  to  descend  into  that  which  is  eternal, 
while  the  gates  of  the  pit  were  too  narrow  for  the 
multitude  of  their  miscreant  souls. 2 

So  the  Norsemen  heard,  and  feared  ;  and  only  cast 
longing  eyes  at  the  gold  and  tapestries  of  the  altars, 
when  they  went  in  to  mass. 

For  the  good  Abbot,  gaining  courage  still  further, 
had  pointed  out  to  Hereward  and  his  men  that  it  had 
been  surely  by  the  merits  and  suffrages  of  the  blessed 
St.  Bertin  that  they  had  escaped  a  watery  grave. 

Hereward  and  his  men,  for  their  part,  were  not 
inclined  to  deny  the  theory.  That  they  had  miracu- 
lously escaped,  from  the  accident  of  the  tide  being 

»  Histoire  dts  Comtts  dg  Flandre,  par  E.  le  Glay. 
•  This  gallant  feat  was  performed  in  A.D.  8gi. 


136  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

high,  they  knew  full  well ;  and  that  St.  Bertin  should 
have  done  them  the  service  was  probable  enough. 
He,  of  course,  was  lord  and  master  in  his  own 
country,  and  very  probably  a  few  miles  out  to  sea 
likewise. 

So  Hereward  assured  the  Abbot  that  he  had  no 
mind  to  eat  St.  Berlin's  bread,  or  accept  his  favours 
without  paying  honestly  for  them  ;  and  after  mass  he 
took  from  his  shoulders  a  handsome  silk  cloak  (the 
only  one  he  had),  with  a  great  Scotch  Cairngorm 
brooch,  and  bade  them  buckle  it  on  the  shoulders  of 
the  great  image  of  St.  Bertin. 

At  which  St.  Bertin  was  so  pleased  (being,  like 
many  saints,  male  and  female,  somewhat  proud  after 
their  death  of  the  finery  which  they  despised  during 
life),  that  he  appeared  that  night  to  a  certain  monk, 
and  told  him  that  if  Hereward  would  continue  duly 
to  honour  him,  the  blessed  St.  Bertin,  and  his  monks 
of  that  place,  he  would,  in  his  turn,  ensure  him  victory 
in  all  his  battles  by  land  and  sea. 

After  which  Hereward  stayed  quietly  in  the  abbey 
certain  days  ;  and  young  Arnoul,  in  spite  of  all  remon- 
strances from  the  Abbot,  would  never  leave  his  side 
till  he  had  heard  from  him  and  from  his  men  as 
much  of  their  adventures  as  they  thought  it  prudent 
to  relate. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

hOW   HEREWARD   WENT  TO  THE   WAR   AT  GUISNES. 

THE  dominion  of  Baldwin  of  Lille — Baldwin  the 
Debonair — Marquis  of  Flanders,  and  just  then  the 
greatest  potentate  in  Europe  after  the  Kaiser  of 
Germany  and  the  Kaiser  of  Constantinople,  extended 
from  the  Somme  to  the  Scheldt,  including  thus  much 
territory  which  now  belongs  to  France.  His  fore- 
fathers had  ruled  there  ever  since  the  days  of  the 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  137 

"Foresters"  of  Charlemagne,  who  held  the  vast 
forests  against  the  heathens  of  the  fens  ;  and  of  that 
famous  Baldwin  Bras-de-fer,  who,  when  the  foul  fiend 
rose  out  of  the  Scheldt,  and  tried  to  drag  him  down, 
tried  cold  steel  upon  him  (being  a  practical  man),  and 
made  his  ghostly  adversary  feel  so  sorely  the  weight 
of  the  "  iron  arm,"  that  he  retired  into  his  native  mud 
— or  even  lower  still. 

He,  like  a  daring  knight  as  he  was,  ran  off  with 
hi?  (so  some  say)  early  love,  Judith,  daughter  of 
Charles  the  Bald  of  France,  a  descendant  of  Charle- 
magne himself.  Married  up  to  Ethelwulf  of  England, 
and  thus  stepmother  of  Alfred  the  Great — after  her 
husband's  death  behaving,  alas  for  her  I  not  over 
wisely  or  well,  she  had  verified  the  saying1, 

Nous  revenons  toujours 
A  nos  premiers  amours, 

and  ran  away  with  Baldwin. 

Charles,  very  wroth  that  one  of  his  earls,  a  mere 
lieutenant  and  creature,  should  dare  to  marry  a 
daughter  of  Charlemagne's  house,  would  have 
attacked  him  with  horse  and  foot,  fire  and  sword, 
had  not  Baldwin  been  the  only  man  who  could 
defend  his  northern  frontier  against  the  heathen 
Norsemen. 

The  Pope,  as  Charles  was  his  good  friend,  fulminated 
against  Baldwin  the  excommunication  destined  for  him 
who  stole  a  widow  for  his  wife,  and  all  his  accomplices. 

Baldwin  and  Judith  went  straight  to  Rome,  and  told 
their  story  to  the  Pope. 

He,  honest  man,  wrote  to  Charles  the  Bald  a  letter 
which  still  remains, — alike  merciful,  sentimental,  and 
politic,  with  its  usual  ingrained  element  of  what  we 
now  call  (from  the  old  monkish  word  ' '  cantare ") 
cant.  Of  Baldwin's  horrible  wickedness  there  is  no 
doubt.  Of  his  repentance  (in  all  matters  short  of 
amendment  of  life,  by  giving  up  the  fair  Judith),  still 


138  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

less.  But  the  Pope  has  "another  motive  for  so 
acting.  He  fears  lest  Baldwin,  under  the  weight  of 
Charles's  wrath  and  indignation,  should  make  alliance 
with  the  Normans,  enemies  of  God  and  the  holy 
Church ;  and  thus  an  occasion  arise  of  peril  and 
scandal  for  the  people  of  God,  whom  Charles  ought 
to  rule,"  etc.  etc.,  which  if  it  happened,  it  would  be 
worse  for  them  and  for  Charles's  own  soul. 

To  which  very  sensible  and  humane  missive  (times 
and  creeds  being  considered),  Charles  answered, 
after  pouting  and  sulking,  by  making  Baldwin 
bona  fide  king  of  all  between  Somme  and  Scheldt, 
and  leaving  him  in  peace  with  Judith,  the  wicked 
and  the  fair. 

This  all  happened  about  A.D.  863.  Two  hundred 
years  after,  there  ruled  over  that  same  land  Baldwin 
the  Debonair,  as  "Marquis  of  the  Flamands." 

Baldwin  had  had  his  troubles.  He  had  fought  the 
Count  of  Holland.  He  had  fought  the  Emperor  of 
Germany ;  during  which  war  he  had  burnt  the 
cathedral  of  Nimeguen,  and  did  other  unrighteous 
and  unwise  things  ;  and  had  been  beaten  after  all. 

Baldwin  had  had  his  troubles,  and  had  deserved 
them.  But  he  had  had  his  glories,  and  had  deserved 
them  likewise.  He  had  cut  the  Foss£  Neuf,  or  new 
dyke,  which  parted  Artois  from  Flanders.  He  had  so 
beautified  the  cathedral  of  Lille,  that  he  was  called 
Baldwin  of  Lille  to  his  dying  day.  He  had  married 
Adela,  the  Queen-Countess,  daughter  of  the  King  of 
France.  He  had  become  tutor  of  Philip,  the  young 
King,  and  more  or  less  thereby  regent  of  the  north  of 
France,  and  had  fulfilled  his  office  wisely  and  well. 
He  had  married  his  eldest  son,  Baldwin  the  Good,  to 
the  terrible  sorceress  Richilda,  heiress  of  Hainhault, 
wherefore  the  bridegroom  was  named  Baldwin  of 
Mons.  He  had  married  one  of  his  daughters,  Matilda, 
to  William  of  Normandy,  afterwards  the  Conqueror ; 
and  another,  Judith,  to  Tosti  Godwinsson,  the  son  of 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  139 

the  great  Earl  Godwin  of  England.  She  afterwards 
married  Welf,  Duke  of  Bavaria;  thereby,  it  may  be, 
the  blood  of  Baldwin  of  Flanders  runs  in  the  veins  of 
Queen  Victoria. 

"  And  thus  there  were  few  potentates  of  the  North 
more  feared  and  respected  than  Baldwin,  the  good- 
natured  Earl  of  Flanders. 

But  one  sore  thorn  in  the  side  he  had,  which  other 
despots  after  him  shared  with  him,  and  had  even  worse 
success  in  extracting; — namely,  the  valiant  men  of 
Scaldmariland,  which  we  now  call  Holland.  Of  them 
hereafter.  At  the  moment  of  Hereward's  arrival, 
he  was  troubled  with  a  lesser  thorn,  the  Count  of 
Guisnes  (seemingly,  that  Manasses  whom  Richard  of 
Ely  confounds  with  the  Chatelain,  or  other  lawful 
Commander,  of  St.  Omer),  who  would  not  pay  him 
np  certain  dues,  and  otherwise  acknowledge  his 
sovereignty. 

Therefore  when  the  Chatelain  of  St.  Omer  sent  him 
word  to  Bruges  that  a  strange  Viking  had  landed  with 
his  crew,  calling  himself  Harold  Naemansson,  and 
offering  to  take  service  with  him,  he  returned  for 
answer  that  the  said  Harold  might  make  proof  of  his 
faith  and  prowess  upon  the  said  Count,  in  which,  if 
he  acquitted  himself  like  a  good  knight,  Baldwin 
would  have  further  dealings  with  him. 

So  the  Chatelain  of  St.  Omer,  with  all  his  knights 
and  men-at-arms,  and  Hereward  with  his  sea-cocks, 
marched  north-west  up  to  Guisnes,  with  little  Arnoul 
cantering  alongside  in  high  glee;  for  it  was  the  first 
war  he  had  ever  seen. 

And  they  came  to  the  Castle  of  Guisnes,  and  sum- 
moned the  Count,  by  trumpet  and  herald,  to  pay  or 
fight. 

Whereon,  the  Count  preferring  the  latter,  certain 
knights  of  his  came  forth  and  challenged  the  knights 
of  St.  Omer  to  fight  them  man  to  man.  Whereon 
there  was  the  usual  splintering  of  lances  and  slipping 


140  HEREWARD   THE  WAKE. 

up  of  horses,  and  hewing  at  heads  and  shoulders  so 
well  defended  in  mail  that  no  on2  was  much  hurt. 
The  archers  and  arbalisters,  meanwhile,  amused  them- 
selves by  shooting  at  the  castle  walls,  out  of  which 
they  chipped  several  small  pieces  of  stone.  And  when 
they  were  all  tired,  they  drew  off  on  both  sides,  and 
went  in  to  dinner. 

At  which  Hereward's  men,  who  were  accustomed 
to  a  more  serious  fashion  of  fighting,  stood  by, 
mightily  amused,  and  vowing  it  was  as  pretty  a  play 
as  ever  they  saw  in  their  lives. 

The  next  day  the  same  comedy  was  repeated. 

"  Let  me  go  in  against  those  knights,  Sir  Chatelain," 
asked  Hereward,  who  felt  the  lust  of  battle  tingling  in 
him  from  head  to  heel ;  "  and  try  if  I  cannot  do  some- 
what toward  deciding  all  this.  If  we  fight  no  faster 
than  we  did  yesterday  our  beards  will  be  grown  down 
to  our  knees  before  we  take  Guisnes." 

"Let  my  Viking  go!"  cried  Arnoul.  "Let  me 
see  him  fight !  "  as  if  he  had  been  a  pet  game-cock 
or  bulldog. 

"You  can  break  a  lance,  fine  sir,  if  it  please  you," 
said  the  Chatelain. 

"I  break  more  than  lances,"  quoth  Hereward,  as 
he  cantered  off. 

"You,"  said  he  to  his  men,  "draw  round  hither  to 
the  left ;  and  when  I  drive  the  Frenchmen  to  the  right, 
make  a  run  for  it,  and  get  between  them  and  the  castle 
gate  ;  and  we  will  try  the  Danish  axe  against  their 
horses'  legs." 

Then  Hereward  spurred  his  horse,  shouting,  "A 
Wake  !  A  Wake  !  "  and  dashed  into  the  press  ;  and 
therein  did  mightily,  like  any  Turpin  or  Roland,  till  he 
saw  lie  on  the  ground,  close  to  the  castle  gate,  one  of 
the  Chatelain's  knights  with  four  Guisnes  knights 
around  him.  At  them  he  rode,  and  slew  them  every 
one ;  and  mounted  the  wounded  Fleming  on  his  own 
horse  and  led  him  across  the  field,  though  the  archers 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  141 

shot  sore  at  him  from  the  wall.  And  when  the  press 
rode  at  him,  his  Danish  men  got  between  them  and 
the  castle,  and  made  a  stand  to  cover  him.  Then  the 
Guisnes  knights  rode  at  them  scornfully,  crying  : 

"What  footpad  churls  have  we  here,  who  fancy 
they  can  face  horsed  knights  ?  " 

But  they  did  not  know  the  stuff  of  the  Danish  men  ; 
who  all  shouted,  "A  Wake!  A  Wake!"  and  turned 
the  lances'  points  with  their  targets,  and  hewed  off 
the  horses'  heads,  and  would  have  hewed  off  the  riders' 
likewise,  had  not  Hereward  bidden  them  give  quarter, 
according  to  the  civilised  fashion  of  France  and 
Flanders.  Whereon  all  the  knights  who  were  not 
taken  rode  right  and  left,  and  let  them  pass  through 
in  peace,  with  several  prisoners,  and  him  whom 
Hereward  had  rescued. 

At  which  little  Arnoul  was  as  proud  as  if  he  had 
done  it  himself;  and  the  Chatelain  sent  word  to 
Baldwin  that  the  new-comer  was  a  prudhomme  of 
no  common  merit ;  while  the  heart  of  the  Count 
of  Guisnes  became  as  water ;  and  his  knights,  both 
those  who  were  captives  and  those  who  were  not, 
complained  indignantly  of  the  unchivalrous  trick  of 
the  Danes.  How  villainous  for  men  on  foot,  not 
only  to  face  knights,  but  to  bring  them  down  to 
their  own  standing  ground  by  basely  cutting  off  their 
horses'  heads ! 

To  which  Hereward  answered,  that  he  knew  the 
rules  of  chivalry  as  well  as  any  of  them  :  but  he  was 
hired,  not  to  joust  at  a  tournament,  but  to  make  the 
Count  of  Guisnes  pay  his  lord  Baldwin,  and  make  him 
pay  he  would. 

The  next  day  he  bade  his  men  sit  still  and  look 
on,  and  leave  him  to  himself.  And  when  the  usual 
"monomachy"  began,  he  singled  out  the  burliest 
and  boldest  knight  whom  he  saw,  rode  up  to  him 
lance  point  in  air,  and  courteously  asked  him  to 
come  and  be  killed  in  fair  fight.  The  knight  being, 


i42  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

says  the  chronicler,  "magnificent  in  valour  of  soul 
and  counsel  of  war,  and  held  to  be  as  a  lion  in 
fortitude  throughout  the  army,"  and  seeing  that 
Hereward  was  by  no  means  a  large  or  a  heavy  man, 
replied  as  courteously,  that  he  should  have  great 
pleasure  in  trying  to  kill  Hereward.  On  which  they 
rode  some  hundred  yards  out  of  the  press,  calling  out 
that  they  were  to  be  left  alone  by  both  sides,  for  it 
was  an  honourable  duel ;  and,  turning  their  horses, 
charged. 

After  which  act  they  found  themselves  and  their 
horses  all  four  in  a  row,  sitting  on  their  hind-quarters 
on  the  ground,  amid  the  fragments  of  their  lances. 

"  Well  ridden  !  "  shouted  they  both  at  once,  as  they 
leaped  up  laughing,  and  drew  their  swords. 

After  which  they  hammered  away  at  each  other 
merrily  in  the  devil's  smithy.  The  sparks  flew  ;  the 
iron  rang ;  and  all  men  stood  still  to  see  that  gallant 
fight. 

So  they  watched  and  cheered,  till  Hereward  struck 
his  man  such  a  blow  under  the  ear,  that  he  dropped, 
and  lay  like  a  log. 

"  I  think  I  can  carry  you,"  quoth  Hereward,  and 
picking  him  up,  he  threw  him  over  his  shoulder,  and 
walked  towards  his  men. 

"  Bear  and  bullock  !  "  shouted  they  in  delight,  laugh- 
ing at  the  likeness  between  Hereward's  attitude,  and 
that  of  a  bear  waddling  off  on  his  hind  legs  with  his 
prey  in  his  arms. 

"He  should  have  killed  his  bullock  out  right  before 
he  went  to  carry  him.  Look  there  1 " 

And  the  knight,  awakening  from  his  swoon, 
struggled  violently  (says  the  chronicler)  to  escape. 

But  Hereward,  though  the  smaller,  was  the  stronger 
man ;  and  crushing  him  in  his  arms,  walked  on 
steadily. 

"Knights,  to  the  rescue!  Hoibricht  is  taken!" 
shouted  they  of  Guisies,  galloping  towards  him. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  143 

"  A  Wake  1  a  Wake !  To  me  Vikings  all ! " 
shouted  Hereward.  And  the  Danes  leapt  up,  and 
ran  towards  him,  axe  in  hand. 

The  Chatelain's  knights  rode  up  likewise  ;  and  so  it 
befell,  that  Hereward  carried  his  prisoner  safe  into 
camp. 

"And  who  are  you,  gallant  knight?"  asked  he  of 
his  prisoner. 

"  Hoibricht,  nephew  of  Eustace,  Count  of  Guisnes." 

"  So,  I  suppose  you  will  be  ransomed.  Till  then 

Armourer  ! " 

And  the  hapless  Hoibricht  found  himself  chained 
and  fettered,  and  sent  off  to  Hereward's  tent,  under 
the  custody  of  Martin  Lightfoot. 

"The  next  day,"  says  the  chronicler,  "the  Count 
of  Guisnes,  stupefied  with  grief  at  the  loss  of  his 
nephew,  sent  the  due  honour  and  service  to  his  prince, 
besides  gifts  and  hostages." 

And  so  ended  the  troubles  of  Baldwin  and  Eustace 
of  Guisnes. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

HOW  A  FAIR  LADY  EXERCISED  THE  MECHANICAL  ART  TO 
WIN  HEREWARD'S  LOVE. 

IN  an  upper  room  of  her  mother's  house  in  St.  Omer, 
sat  the  fair  Torfrida,  alternately  looking  out  of  the 
window  and  at  a  book  of  mechanics.  In  the  garden 
outside,  the  wryneck  (as  it  is  his  fashion  in  May) 
was  calling  Pi-pi-pi  among  the  gooseberry  bushes, 
till  the  cob-walls  rang  again.  In  the  book  was  a 
Latin  recipe  for  drying  the  poor  wryneck,  and  using 
him  as  a  philtre  which  should  compel  the  love  of  any 
person  desired.  Mechanics,  it  must  be  understood, 
in  those  days  were  considered  as  identical  with 
mathematics,  and  those  again  with  astrology  and 
magic ;  so  that  the  old  chronicler,  who  says  that 


144  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

Torfrida  was  skilled  in  "the  mechanic  art,"  uses  the 
word  in  the  same  sense  as  does  the  author  of  the 
History  of  Ramsey,  who  tells  us  how  a  certain  holy 
bishop  of  St.  Dunstan's  party,  riding  down  to  Corfe 
through  the  forest,  saw  the  wicked  queen-mother 
Elfrida  (her  who  had  St.  Edward  stabbed  at  Corfe 
Gate)  exercising  her  "mechanic  art"  under  a  great 
tree  ;  in  plain  English,  performing  heathen  incanta- 
tions ;  and  how,  when  she  saw  that  she  was  dis- 
covered, she  tempted  him  to  deadly  sin  :  but  when 
she  found  him  proof  against  allurement,  she  had 
him  into  her  bower ;  and  there  the  enchantress  and 
her  ladies  slew  him  by  thrusting  red-hot  bodkins 
under  his  arms,  so  that  the  blessed  man  was  martyred 
without  any  sign  of  wound.  Of  all  which  let  every 
man  believe  as  much  as  he  list. 

Torfrida  had  had  peculiar  opportunities  of  learning 
mechanics.  The  fairest  and  richest  damsel  in  St. 
Omer,  she  had  been  left  early  by  her  father  an 
orphan,  to  the  care  of  a  superstitious  mother,  and 
of  a  learned  uncle,  the  Abbot  of  St.  Bertin.  Her 
mother  was  a  Provencale,  one  of  those  Arlesiennes 
whose  dark  Greek  beauty  still  shines,  like  diamonds 
set  in  jet,  in  the  doorways  of  the  quaint  old  city. 
Gay  enough  in  her  youth,  she  had,  like  a  true 
southern  woman,  taken  to  superstition  in  her  old 
age ;  and  spent  her  days  in  the  churches,  leaving 
her  daughter  to  do  and  learn  what  she  would. 
Torfrida's  nurse,  moreover,  was  a  Lapp  woman, 
carried  off  in  some  pirating  foray,  and  skilled  in  all 
the  sorceries  for  which  the  Lapps  were  famed  through- 
out the  North.  Her  uncle,  partly  from  good  nature, 
partly  from  a  pious  hope  that  she  might  enter  religion, 
and  leave  her  wealth  to  the  Church,  had  made  her  his 
pupil,  and  taught  her  the  mysteries  of  books  ;  and  she 
had  proved  to  be  a  strangely  apt  scholar.  Grammar, 
rhetoric,  Latin  prose  and  poetry,  such  as  were  taught 
in  those  days,  she  mastered  ere  she  was  grown  up. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  145 

Then  she  fell  upon  romance  ;  and  Charlemagne  and 
his  Paladins,  the  heroes  of  Troy,  Alexander  and  his 
generals,  peopled  her  imagination.  She  had  heard, 
too,  of  the  great  necromancer  Virgilius  (for  into  such 
the  middle  age  transformed  the  poet),  and,  her  fancy 
already  excited  by  her  Lapp  nurse's  occult  science, 
she  began  eagerly  to  court  forbidden  lore. 

Forbidden,  indeed,  was  magic  by  the  Church  ;  but 
as  a  reality,  not  as  an  imposture.  Those  whose  con- 
sciences were  tough  and  their  faith  weak,  had  little 
scruple  in  applying  to  a  witch,  and  asking  help  from 
the  powers  below,  when  the  saints  above  were  slack 
to  hear  them.  Churchmen,  even,  were  bold  enough 
to  learn  the  mysteries  of  nature,  Algebra,  Judicial 
Astrology,  and  the  occult  powers  of  herbs,  stones, 
and  animals,  from  the  Mussulman  doctors  of  Cordova 
and  Seville  ;  and,  like  Pope  Gerbert,  mingle  science 
and  magic,  in  a  fashion  excusable  enough  in  days 
when  true  inductive  science  did  not  exist. 

Nature  had  her  miraculous  powers, — how  far  good, 
how  far  evil,  who  could  tell?  The  belief  that  God 
was  the  sole  maker  and  ruler  of  the  universe,  was 
confused  and  darkened  by  the  cross-belief  that  the 
material  world  had  fallen  under  the  dominion  of  Satan 
and  his  demons ;  that  millions  of  spirits,  good  and 
evil  in  every  degree,  exercised  continually  powers 
over  crops  and  cattle,  mines  and  wells,  storms  and 
lightning,  health  and  disease.  Riches,  honours,  and 
royalties,  too,  were  under  the  command  of  the  powers 
of  darkness.  For  that  generation,  which  was  but 
too  apt  to  take  its  Bible  in  hand  upside  down,  had 
somehow  a  firm  faith  in  the  word  of  the  devil,  and 
believed  devoutly  his  somewhat  startling  assertion, 
that  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  were  his,  and  the 
glory  of  them :  for  to  him  they  were  delivered,  and 
to  whomsoever  he  would  he  gave  them  ;  while  it  had 
a  proportionally  weak  faith  in  our  Lord's  answer, 
that  they  were  to  worship  and  serve  the  Lord  God 


146  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

alone.  How  far  these  powers  extended ;  how  far 
they  might  be  counteracted  ;  how  far  lawfully  em- 
ployed, were  questions  which  exercised  the  minds 
of  men,  and  produced  a  voluminous  literature  for 
several  centuries  ;  till  the  search  died  out,  for  very 
weariness  of  failure,  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
century. 

The  Abbot  of  St.  Bertin,  therefore,  did  not  hesitate 
to  keep  in  his  private  library  more  than  one  volume 
which  he  would  not  have  willingly  lent  to  the  simple 
monks  under  his  charge ;  nor  to  Torfrida  either,  had 
she  not  acquired  so  complete  a  command  over  the 
good  old  man,  that  he  could  deny  her  nothing. 

So  she  read  of  Gerbert,  Pope  Silvester  II., who  had 
died  only  a  generation  back :  how  (to  quote  William 
of  Malmesbury)  "  he  learned  at  Seville  till  he  surpassed 
Ptolemy  with  the  astrolabe,  Alcandrus  in  astronomy, 
and  Julius  Firmicus  in  judicial  astrolgy  ;  how  he  learned 
what  the  singing  and  flight  of  birds  portended,  and 
acquired  the  art  of  calling  up  spirits  from  hell ; 
and,  in  short,  whatever — hurtful  or  healthful — human 
curiosity  had  discovered,  besides  the  lawful  sciences 
of  arithmetic  and  astronomy,  music  and  geometry  ; " 
how  he  acquired  from  the  Saracens  the  abacus  (a 
counting  table) ;  how  he  escaped  from  the  Moslem 
magician,  his  tutor,  by  making  a  compact  with  the 
foul  fiend,  and  putting  himself  beyond  the  power  of 
magic,  by  hanging  himself  under  a  wooden  bridge, 
so  as  to  touch  neither  earth  nor  water  ;  how  he  taught 
Robert,  King  of  France,  and  Kaiser  Otto  III.,  sur- 
named  "The  wonder  of  the  world";  how  he  made 
an  hydraulic  organ  which  played  tunes  by  steam, 
standing  even  then  in  the  Cathedral  of  Rheims  ;  how 
he  discovered  in  the  Campus  Martius  at  Rome 
wondrous  treasures,  and  a  golden  king  and  queen, 
golden  courtiers  and  guards,  all  lighted  by  a  single 
carbuncle,  and  guarded  by  a  boy  with  a  bent  bow  ; 
who,  when  Gerbert's  servant  stole  a  golden  knife, 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  147 

shot  an  arrow  at  that  carbuncle ;  and  all  was  dark- 
ness, and  yells  of  demons. 

All  this  Torfrida  had  read  ;  and  read,  too,  how 
Gerbert's  brazen  head  had  told  him  that  he  should 
be  Pope,  and  not  die  till  he  had  sung  mass  at 
Jerusalem  ;  and  how  both  had  come  true — the  latter 
in  mockery  ;  for  he  was  stricken  with  deadly  sickness 
in  Rome,  as  he  sang  mass  at  the  church  called 
Jerusalem,  and  died  horribly,  tearing  himself  in 
pieces. 

Which  terrible  warning  had  as  little  effect  on 
Torfrida  as  other  terrible  warnings  have  on  young 
folk,  who  are  minded  to  eat  of  the  tree  of  knowledge 
of  good  and  evil. 

So  Torfrida  beguiled  her  lonely  life  in  that  dull 
town,  looking  out  over  dreary  flats  and  muddy  dykes, 
by  a  whole  dream-world  of  fantastic  imaginations, 
and  was  ripe  and  ready  for  any  wild  deed  which  her 
wild  brain  might  suggest. 

Pure  she  was  all  the  while,  generous  and  noble- 
hearted  ;  with  a  deep  and  sincere  longing — as  one 
soul  in  ten  thousand  has — after  knowledge  for  its 
own  sake :  but  ambitious  exceedingly,  and  that  not 
of  monastic  sanctity.  She  laughed  to  scorn  the  notion 
of  a  nunnery  ;  and  laughed  to  scorn  equally  the  notion 
of  marrying  any  knight,  however  much  of  a  prud- 
homme,  whom  she  had  yet  seen.  Her  uncle  and 
Marquis  Baldwin  could  have  between  them  compelled 
her,  as  an  orphan  heiress,  to  marry  whom  they  liked. 
But  Torfrida  had  as  yet  managed  both  the  Abbot  and 
the  Marquis  successfully.  Lances  had  been  splintered, 
helmets  split,  and  more  than  one  life  lost  in  her 
honour :  but  she  had  only,  as  the  best  safeguard  she 
could  devise,  given  some  hint  of  encouragement  to 
one  Ascelin,  a  tall  knight  of  St.  Valeri,  the  most 
renowned  and  courtly  bully  of  those  parts,  by  bestow- 
ing on  him  a  scrap  of  ribbon,  and  bidding  him  keep 
it  against  all  comers.  By  this  means  she  insured 


148  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

the  personal  chastisement  of  all  other  youths  who 
dared  to  lift  their  eyes  to  her,  while  she  by  no  means 
bound  herself  to  her  spadassin  of  St.  Valeri.  The 
method  was  rough :  but  so  was  the  time ;  and  what 
better  could  a  poor  lady  do  in  days  when  no  man's 
life,  or  woman's  honour,  was  safe,  unless  (as  too 
many  were  forced  to  do)  she  retired  into  a  cloister, 
and  got  from  the  Church  that  peace  which  this  world 
certainly  could  not  give,  and,  happily,  dared  not 
take  away  ? 

The  arrival  of  Hereward  and  his  men  had,  of  course, 
stirred  the  great  current  of  her  life,  and,  indeed,  that 
of  St.  Omer,  usually  as  stagnant  as  the  dykes  round 
its  wall.  Who  the  unknown  champion  was  (for  his 
name  of  Naemansson  showed  that  he  was  concealing 
something  at  least) — whence  he  had  come,  and  what 
had  been  his  previous  exploits,  busied  all  the  gossips 
of  the  town.  Would  he  and  his  men  rise  and  plunder 
the  abbey?  Was  not  the  Chatelain  mad  in  leaving 
young  Arnoul  with  him  all  day?  Madder  still,  in 
taking  him  out  to  battle  against  the  Count  of  Guisnes  ? 
He  might  be  a  spy,  the  avant-courier  of  some  great 
invading  force.  He  was  come  to  spy  out  the  nakedness 
of  the  land,  and  would  shortly  vanish,  to  return  with 
Harold  Hardraade  of  Norway,  or  Sweyn  of  Denmark, 
and  all  their  hosts.  Nay,  was  he  not  Harold 
Hardraade  himself  in  disguise  ?  And  so  forth.  All 
which  Torfrida  heard,  and  thought  within  herself 
that,  be  he  who  he  might,  she  should  like  to  look 
on  him  again. 

Then  came  the  news  how,  the  very  first  day  that  he 
had  gone  out  against  the  Count  of  Guisnes,  he  had 
gallantly  rescued  a  wounded  man.  A  day  or  two 
after  came  fresh  news  of  some  doughty  deed  ;  and 
then  another  and  another.  And  when  Hereward 
returned,  after  a  week's  victorious  fighting,  all  St. 
Omer  was  in  the  street  to  stare  at  him. 

Then  Torfrida    heard    enough,    and,    had   it    been 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  149 

possible,  more  than  enough,  of  Hereward  and  his 
prowess. 

And  when  they  came  riding  in,  the  great  Marquis 
at  the  head  of  them  all,  with  Robert  le  Prison  on  one 
side  of  him,  and  on  the  other  Hereward,  as  fresh  as 
flowers  in  May,  Torfrida  looked  down  on  him  out  of 
her  little  lattice  in  the  gable,  and  loved  him,  once  and 
for  all,  with  all  her  heart  and  soul. 

And  Hereward  looked  up  at  her  and  her  dark  blue 
eyes  and  dark  raven  locks  ;  and  thought  her  the  fairest 
thing  that  he  had  ever  seen,  and  asked  who  she  might 
be,  and  heard  ;  and  as  he  heard,  he  forgot  all  about 
the  Sultan's  daughter,  and  the  Princess  of  Constanti- 
nople, and  the  Fairy  of  Brocheliaunde,  and  all  the 
other  pretty  birds  which  were  still  in  the  bush  about 
the  wide  world  :  and  thought  for  many  a  day  of  nought 
but  the  pretty  bird  which  he  held  (so  conceited  was  he 
of  his  own  powers  of  winning  her)  there  safe  in  hand 
in  St.  Omer. 

So  he  cast  about  to  see  her,  and  to  win  her  love. 
And  she  cast  about  to  see  him,  and  to  win  his  love. 
But  neither  saw  the  other  for  awhile  ;  and  it  might 
have  been  better  for  one  of  them  had  they  never  seen 
each  other  again. 

If  Torfrida  could  have  foreseen,  and  foreseen,  and 

foreseen  : why,  if  she  were  true  woman,  she  would 

have  done  exactly  what  she  did,  and  taken  the  bitter 
with  the  sweet,  the  unknown  with  the  known,  as  we 
all  must  do  io  life,  unless  we  wish  to  live  and  die 
alone. 


150  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

CHAPTER  IX 

HOW  HEREWARD  WENT  TO  THE  WAR  IN  SCALD- 
MARILAND. 

IT  has  been  shown  how  the  Count  of  Guisnes  had 
been  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  Baldwin  of  Lille,  and  how 
that  thorn  was  drawn  out  by  Hereward.  But  far 
sharper  thorns  in  his  side,  which  had  troubled  many  a 
Count  before,  and  were  destined  to  trouble  others 
afterward,  were  those  unruly  Zeelanders,  or  Frisians, 
who  dwelt  in  Scaldmariland,  "  the  land  of  the  meres 
of  the  Scheldt."  Beyond  the  vast  forests  of  Flanders, 
in  morasses  and  alluvial  islands  whose  names  it  is 
impossible  now  to  verify,  so  much  has  the  land  changed, 
both  by  inundations  and  by  embankments,  by  the 
brute  forces  of  nature  and  the  noble  triumphs  of  art, 
dwelt  a  folk,  poor  and  savage;  living  mostly,  as  in 
Caesar's  time,  in  huts  raised  above  the  sea,  on  piles 
or  mounds  of  earth;  often  without  cattle  or  seedfield; 
half  savage,  half  heathen  :  but  free.  Free,  with  the 
divine  instinct  of  freedom,  and  all  the  self-help  and 
energy  which  spring  thereout. 

They  were  a  mongrel  race;  and,  as  most  mongrel 
races  are  (when  sprung  from  parents  not  too  far  apart 
in  blood),  a  strong  race;  the  remnant  of  those  old 
Frisians  and  Batavians,  who  had  defied,  and  all  but 
successfully  resisted,  the  power  of  Rome;  mingled 
with  fresh  crosses  of  Teutonic  blood  from  Frank,  Sueve, 
Saxon,  and  the  other  German  tribes,  who,  after  the 
fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  had  swept  across  the 
land. 

Their  able  modern  historian  has  well  likened  their 
first  struggle — that  between  Civilis  and  the  Romans, 
to  their  last — that  between  William  the  Silent  and 
the  Spaniard.  It  was,  without  doubt,  the  foreshadow 
of  their  whole  history.  They  were  distinguished, 
above  most  European  races,  for  sturdy  independence, 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  151 

and  for  what  generally  accompanies  it — sturdy  common 
sense.  They  could  not  understand  why  they  should 
obey  foreign  Frank  rulers,  whether  set  over  them  by 
Dagobert  or  by  Charlemagne.  They  could  not  under- 
stand why  they  were  to  pay  tithes  to  foreign  Frank 
priests,  who  had  forced  on  them,  at  the  sword's  point, 
a  religion  which  they  only  half  believed  and  only  half 
understood.  Many  a  truly  holy  man  preached  to 
them  to  the  best  of  his  powers :  but  the  cross  of  St. 
Boniface  had  too  often  to  follow  the  sword  of  Charles 
Martel ;  and  for  every  Frisian  who  was  converted 
another  was  killed. 

"  Free  Frisians,"  nevertheless,  they  remained,  at 
least  in  name  and  in  their  statute  book,  "as  long  as 
the  wind  blows  out  of  the  clouds  and  the  world  stands." 
The  feudal  system  never  took  root  in  their  soil.1  If 
a  Frank  Count  was  to  govern  them,  he  must  govern 
according  to  their  own  laws.  Again  and  again  they 
rebelled,  even  against  that  seemingly  light  rule.  Again 
and  again  they  brought  down  on  themselves  the  wrath 
of  their  nominal  sovereigns,  the  Counts  of  Flanders  ; 
then  of  the  Kaisers  of  Germany  ;  and,  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  of  the  Inquisition  itself.  Then  a  crusade  was 
preached  against  them  as  "  Stadings,"  heretics  who 
paid  no  tithes,  ill-used  monks  and  nuns,  and  worshipped 
(or  were  said  to  worship)  a  black  cat  and  the  foul 
fiend  among  the  meres  and  fens.  Conrad  of  Marpurg, 
the  brutal  Director  of  St.  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  burnt 
them  at  his  wicked  will,  extirpating  it  may  be  heresy, 
but  not  the  spirit  of  the  race.  That  spirit,  crushed 
down  and  seemingly  enslaved  during  the  middle 
age,  under  Count  Dirk  and  his  descendants,  still 
lived ;  destined  at  last  to  conquer.  They  were  a 
people  who  had  determined  to  see  for  themselves 
and  act  for  themselves  in  the  universe  in  which 
they  found  themselves ;  and,  moreover  (a  necessary 
corollary  of  such  a  resolution),  to  fight  to  the  death 

J  Motley.    Rise  of  the  Dutch  Rcfubtic. 


IS2  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

against    any    one   who   interfered   with   them    in    so 
doing. 

Again  and  again,  therefore,  the  indomitable  spirit 
rose,  founding  free  towns  with  charters  and  guilds  ; 
embanking  the  streams  ;  draining  the  meres  ;  fighting 
each  other  and  the  neighbouring  princes  ;  till,  in  their 
last  great  struggle  against  the  Pope  and  Spain,  they 
rose  once  and  for  all, 

Heated  hot  with  burning  fears, 
And  bathed  in  baths  of  hissing  tears, 
And  battered  with  the  strokes  of  doom 
To  shape  and  use, 

as  the  great  Protestant  Dutch  Republic. 

A  noble  errand  it  had  been  for  such  a  man  as 
Hereward  to  help  those  men  toward  freedom,  instead 
of  helping  Frank  Counts  to  enslave  them  ; — men  of 
his  own  blood,  with  laws  and  customs  like  those  of 
his  own  Anglo-Danes,  living  in  a  land  so  exactly  like 
his  own  that  every  mere  and  fen  and  wood  reminded 
him  of  the  scenes  of  his  boyhood.  The  very  names 
of  the  two  lands  were  alike — "  Holland,"  the  hollow 
land — the  one  of  England,  the  other  of  Flanders. 

But  all  this  was  hidden  from  Hereward.  To  do  as 
he  would  be  done  by  was  a  lesson  which  he  had  never 
been  taught.  If  men  had  invaded  his  land,  he  would 
have  cried,  like  the  Frisians  whom  he  was  going  to 
enslave,  "  I  am  free  as  long  as  the  wind  blows  out 
of  the  clouds ! "  and  died  where  he  stood.  But  that 
was  not  the  least  reason  why  he  should  not  invade 
any  other  man's  land,  and  try  whether  or  not  he,  too, 
would  die  where  he  stood.  To  him  these  Frieslanders 
were  simply  savages,  probably  heathens,  who  would 
not  obey  their  lawful  lord,  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian  ; 
besides,  renown,  and  possibly  a  little  plunder,  might 
be  got  by  beating  them  into  obedience.  He  knew 
not  what  he  did;  and  knew  not,  likewise,  that  as  he 
had  done  to  others,  so  would  it  be  done  to  him. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  153 

Baldwin  had  at  that  time  made  over  his  troublesome 
Hollanders  to  his  younger  son  Robert,  the  Viking 
whom  little  Arnoul  longed  to  imitate. 

Florent,  Count  of  Holland,  and  vassal  of  the  great 
Marquis,  had  just  died,  leaving  a  pretty  young  widow, 
to  whom  the  Hollanders  had  no  mind  to  pay  one  stiver 
more  than  they  were  forced.  All  the  isles  of  Zeeland, 
and  the  counties  of  Eenham  and  Alost,  were  doing 
that  which  was  right  in  the  sight  of  their  own  eyes, 
and  finding  themselves  none  the  worse  therefor ; 
though  the  Countess  Gertrude,  doubtless,  could  buy 
fewer  silks  of  Greece  or  gems  of  Italy.  But  to  such 
a  distressed  lady  a  champion  could  not  long  be  want- 
ing. Robert  had  been  driven  out  of  Spain  by  the 
Moors  with  fearful  loss,  and,  in  a  second  attempt, 
wrecked  with  all  his  fleet  as  soon  as  he  got  out  of 
port.  He  then,  it  would  seem,  started  in  palmer's 
guise,  nominally  for  Jerusalem,  but  really  for  Byzant. 
For,  according  to  Lambert  of  Aschaffenbourg,  certain 
Norman  Vikings  had  offered  to  make  him  Kaiser  of 
Greece,  and  more  than  rival  of  Robert  Guiscard  in  his 
new  Italian  kingdom.  But  the  existing  Greek  Kaiser, 
hearing  of  the  plot,  commanded  him  to  be  slain  as 
soon  as  he  set  foot  on  shore.  To  avoid  which  end 
the  disappointed  palmer  wended  homeward  once  more, 
and  resolved  to  change  thenceforth  the  salt  water  for 
the  fresh,  and  leave  the  swan's-path  for  that  of  the 
humble  ducks  and  geese  of  Holland. 

So  he  rushed  to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  the  Countess 
Gertrude ;  and  his  father,  whose  good  sense  foresaw 
that  the  fiery  Robert  would  raise  storms  upon  his 
path — happily  for  his  old  age  he  did  not  foresee  the 
worst — let  him  go,  with  his  blessing. 

Then  Robert  gathered  to  him  valiant  ruffians,  as 
many  as  he  could  find ;  and  when  he  heard  of  the 
Viking  who  had  brought  Eustace  of  Guisnes  to  reason, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  a  man  who  would  do  his 
work.  And  when  the  great  Marquis  came  down  to 


154  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

St.  Omer  to  receive  the  homage  of  Count  Eustace  of 
Guisnes,  Robert  came  thither  too,  and  saw  Hereward. 

"You  have  done  us  good  service,  Harold  Naemans- 
son,  as  it  pleases  you  to  be  called,"  said  Baldwin, 
smiling-.  "  But  some  man's  son  you  are,  if  ever  I  saw 
a  gallant  knight,  earl-born  by  his  looks  as  well  as  his 
deeds." 

Hereward  bowed. 

"And  for  me,"  said  Robert,  "  Naemansson  or  Earl's 
son,  here  is  my  Viking's  welcome  to  all  Vikings  like 
myself."  And  he  held  out  his  hand. 

Hereward  took  it. 

"You  failed  in  Galicia,  beausire,  only  because  your 
foes  were  a  hundred  to  one.  You  will  not  fail  where 
you  are  going,  if  (as  I  hear)  they  are  but  ten  to  one." 

Robert  laughed,  vain  and  gratified. 

"Then  you  know  where  I  have  been,  and  where 
I  am  going  ?  " 

"Why  not?  As  you  know  well,  we  Vikings  are 
all  brothers  ;  and  all  know  each  other's  counsel,  from 
ship  to  ship,  and  port  to  port." 

Then  the  two  young  men  looked  each  other  in  the 
face,  and  each  saw  that  the  other  was  a  man  who 
would  suit  him. 

"  Skall  to  the  Viking!"  cried  Robert,  aping,  as 
was  his  fancy,  the  Norse  rovers'  slang.  "  Will  you 
come  with  me  to  Holland  ?  " 

"You  must  ask  my  young  lord  there,"  and  he 
pointed  to  Arnoul.  ' '  I  am  his  man  now,  by  all  laws 
of  honour." 

A  flush  of  jealousy  passed  over  Robert's  face.  He, 
haplessly  for  himself,  thought  that  he  had  a  grievance. 

The  rights  of  primogeniture — "  droits  d'ainesse  " — 
were  not  respected  in  the  family  of  the  Baldwins  as 
they  should  have  been,  had  prudence  and  common 
sense  had  their  way. 

No  sacred  or  divine  right  was  held  to  be  conferred 
by  the  fact  of  a  man's  being  the  first-born  son.  As 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  155 

among  the  Jews  of  old,  the  "  Lord's  anointed  "  was 
usually  rather  a  younger  son  of  talent  and  virtue;  one 
born,  not  according  to  the  flesh,  but  according  to  the 
spirit,  like  David  and  Solomon.  And  so  it  was  in 
other  realms  besides  Flanders  during  the  middle  age. 
The  father  handed  on  the  work — for  ruling  was  hard 
work  in  those  days — to  the  son  most  able  to  do  it. 
Therefore  we  can  believe  Lambert  of  Aschaffenbourg 
when  he  says,  that  in  Count  Baldwin's  family  for  many 
ages  the  son  who  pleased  his  father  most  took  his 
father's  name,  and  was  hereditary  prince  of  all 
Flanders;  while  the  other  brothers  led  an  inglorious 
life  of  vassalage  to  him. 

But  we  can  conceive,  likewise,  that  such  a  method 
would  give  rise  to  intrigues,  envyings,  calumnies, 
murders,  fratnicidal  civil  wars,  and  all  the  train  of 
miseries  which  for  some  years  after  this  history  made 
infamous  the  house  of  Baldwin;  as  they  did  many 
another  royal  house,  till  they  were  stopped  by  the 
gradual  adoption  of  the  national  rule  of  primogeniture. 

So  Robert,  who  might  have  been  a  daring  and  use- 
ful friend  to  his  brother,  had  he  been  forced  to  take 
for  granted  from  birth  that  he  was  nothing,  and  his 
brother  all  in  all — as  do  all  younger  sons  of  English 
noblemen,  to  their  infinite  benefit — held  himself  to  be 
an  injured  man  for  life,  because  his  father  called  his 
first-born  Baldwin,  and  promised  him  the  succession, 
—which  indeed  he  had  worthily  deserved,  according 
to  the  laws  of  Mammon  and  this  world,  by  bringing 
into  the  family  such  an  heiress  as  Richilda,  and  such 
a  dowry  as  Mons. 

But  Robert,  who  thought  himself  as  good  as  his 
brother  (though  he  was  not  such,  save  in  valour), 
nursed  black  envy  in  his  heart.  Hard  it  was  to 
him  to  hear  his  elder  brother  called  Baldwin  of 
Mons,  when  he  himself  had  not  a  foot  of  land  of 
his  own.  Harder  still  to  hear  him  called  Baldwin 
the  Good,  when  he  felt  in  himself  no  title  whatsoever 


156  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

to  that  epithet.  Hardest  of  all  to  see  a  beauti- 
ful boy  grow  up,  as  heir  both  of  Flanders  and  of 
Hainault. 

Had  he  foreseen  whither  that  envy  would  have  led 
him  ;  had  he  foreseen  the  hideous  and  fratricidal  day 
of  22nd  February,  1071,  and  that  fair  boy's  golden 
locks  rolling  in  dust  and  blood — the  wild  Viking 
would  have  crushed  the  growing  snake  within  his 
bosom  ;  for  he  was  a  knight  and  a  gentleman.  But 
it  was  hidden  from  his  eyes.  He  had  to  "dree  his 
weird "  ;  to  commit  great  sins,  do  great  deeds,  and 
die  in  his  bed,  mighty  and  honoured,  having  children 
to  his  heart's  desire,  and  leaving  the  rest  of  his 
substance  to  his  babes.  Heaven  help  him,  and  the 
like  of  him  ! 

He  turned  to  young  Arnoul : 

"  Give  me  your  man,  boy  !  " 

Arnoul  pouted.  He  wanted  to  keep  his  Viking  for 
himself,  and  said  so. 

"  He  is  to  teach  me  to  go  leding,  as  the  Norsemen 
call  it,  like  you." 

Robert  laughed.  A  hint  at  his  piratical  attempts 
pleased  his  vanity,  all  the  more  because  they  had  been 
so  disastrous. 

"  Lend  him  me,  then,  my  pretty  nephew,  for  a 
month  or  two,  till  he  has  conquered  these  Zeeland 
frogs  for  me  ;  and  then,  if  you  will  go  leding  with 
him " 

"  I  hope  you  may  never  come  back,"  thought 
Robert  to  himself;  but  he  did  not  say  it. 

"  Let  the  knight  go,"  quoth  Baldwin. 

"  Let  me  go  with  him,  then." 

"  No,  by  all  saints  !  "  quoth  the  Marquis,  "  I  cannot 
have  you  poked  through  with  a  Zeeland  pike,  or  rotted 
with  a  Zeeland  ague." 

Arnoul  pouted  still. 

"Abbot,  what  hast  thou  been  at  with  the  boy? 
He  thinks  of  nought  but  blood  and  wounds,  instead 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  157 

of  books  and  prayers.  He  is  gone  mad  after  this — 
this  knight." 

"The  Abbot,"  said  Hereward,  "knows  by  hearing 
of  his  ears,  that  I  bid  him  bide  at  home,  and  try  to 
govern  lands  in  peace,  like  his  father  and  you,  Lord 
Marquis." 

"Eh?" 

The  Abbot  told  honestly  what  had  passed  between 
Hereward  and  the  lad,  as  they  rode  to  St.  Bertin. 

Baldwin  was  silent,  thinking,  and  smiling  jollily,  as 
was  the  wont  of  the  Debonair. 

"You  are  a  man  of  sense,  beausire.  Come  with 
me,"  said  he  at  last. 

And  Baldwin,  Hereward,  and  Robert  went  into  an 
inner  room. 

"  Sit  down  on  the  settle  by  me." 

"It  is  too  great  an  honour." 

"Nonsense,  man!  If  I  be  who  I  am,  I  know 
enough  of  men  to  know  that  I  need  not  be  ashamed 
of  having  you  as  a  bench-fellow.  Sit  down." 

Hereward  obeyed,  of  course. 

"Tell  me  who  you  are." 

Hereward  looked  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes, 
smiling  and  perplexed. 

"Tell  me  and  Robert  who  you  are,  man;  and  be 
done  with  it.  I  believe  I  know  already.  I  have  asked 
far  and  wide  of  chapmen,  and  merchants,  and  wander- 
ing knights,  and  pirate  rascals — like  yourself." 

"And  you  found  that  I  was  a  pirate  rascal  ?  " 

"  I  found  a  pirate  rascal  who  met  you  in  Ireland, 
three  years  since,  and  will  swear  that  if  you  have  one 
gray  eye  and  one  blue " 

"As  he  has,"  quoth  Robert. 

"That  I  am  a  wolfs  head,  and  a  robber  of  priests, 
and  an  Esau  on  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  every  man's 
hand  against  me,  and  mine — for  I  never  take  but  what 
I  give — against  every  man." 

"That  you  are  the  son  of  my  old  friend  Leofric  of 


i58  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

Chester ;  and  the  hottest-hearted,  shrewdest-headed, 
hardest-handed  Berserker  in  the  North  Seas.  You 
killed  Gilbert  of  Ghent's  bear,  Siward  Digre's  cousin. 
Don't  deny  it." 

"  Don't  hang  me,  or  send  me  to  the  Westminster 
miracle-worker  to  be  hanged,  and  I  will  confess." 

"  I  ?  Every  man  is  welcome  who  comes  hither 
with  a  bold  hand  and  a  strong-  heart.  '  The  Refuge 
of  Outlaws '  they  call  Flanders ;  I  suppose  because  I 
am  too  good-natured  to  turn  rogues  out.  So  do  no 
harm  to  mine,  and  mine  shall  do  no  harm  to  you." 

Baldwin's  words  were  true.1  He  found  house- 
room  for  everybody,  helped  everybody  against  every- 
body else  (as  will  be  seen),  and  yet  quarrelled  with 
nobody — at  least  in  his  old  age — by  the  mere  virtue  of 
good  nature. 

So  Hereward  went  off  to  exterminate  the  wicked 
Hollanders,  and  avenge  the  wrongs  of  the  Countess 
Gertrude. 


CHAPTER   X. 

HOW   HEREWARD   WON   THE   MAGIC   ARMOUR. 

TORFRIDA  had  special  opportunities  of  hearing-  about 
Hereward  ;  for  young  Arnoul  was  to  her  a  pet  and 
almost  a  foster-brother,  and  gladly  escaped  from  the 
convent  to  tell  her  the  news. 

He  had  now  had  his  first  taste  of  the  royal  game  of 
war.  He  had  seen  Hereward  fight  by  day,  and  heard 
him  tell  stories  over  the  camp  fire  by  night.  Here- 
ward's  beauty,  Hereward's  prowess,  Hereward's  songs, 
Hereward's  strange  adventures  and  wanderings,  were 

1  Eltgiva  Emma,  between  Ethelred's  ruin  and  her  marriage  with  Canute; 
Swejrn  Godwinsson  when  outlawed  by  Edward  the  Confessor,  and  after  them, 
as  will  be  seen,  every  one  who,  however  fallen,  seemed  strong-  enough  to  rise 
again  some  day,  took  refuge  one  after  another  with  Baldwin.  See,  for  the 
history  of  him  and  his  rimes,  M.  Kcrvyn  de  Lettenhoven. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  159 

for  ever  in  the  young  boy's  mouth  ;  and  he  spent  hours 
in  helping-  Torfrida  to  guess  who  the  great  unknown 
might  be  ;  and  then  went  back  to  Hereward,  and  art- 
lessly told  him  of  his  beautiful  friend,  and  how  they 
had  talked  of  him,  and  of  nothing  else  ;  and  in  a  week 
or  two  Hereward  knew  all  about  Torfrida ;  and  Tor- 
frida knew — what  filled  her  heart  with  joy — that  Here- 
ward was  bound  to  no  lady-love,  and  owned  (so  he 
had  told  Arnoul)  no  mistress  save  the  sword  on  his 
thigh. 

Whereby  there  had  grown  up  in  the  hearts  of  both 
of  them  a  mutual  interest,  which  easily  became  the 
parent  of  love. 

When  Baldwin  the  great  Marquis  came  to  St.  Omer, 
to  receive  the  homage  of  Eustace  of  Guisnes,  young 
Arnoul  ran  into  Torfrida's  chamber  in  great  anxiety. 
Would  his  grandfather  approve  of  what  he  had  done  ? 
Would  he  allow  his  new  friendship  with  the  un- 
known ? 

"What  care  I?"  said  Torfrida.  "But  if  your 
friend  wishes  to  have  the  Marquis's  favour,  he  would 
be  wise  to  trust  him,  at  least  so  far  as  to  tell  his 
name." 

"  I  have  told  him  so.  I  have  told  him  that  you 
would  tell  him  so." 

"  I  ?     Have  you  been  talking  to  him  about  me  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"That  is  not  well  done,  Arnoul,  to  talk  of  ladies  to 
men  whom  they  do  not  know. " 

Arnoul  looked  up,  puzzled  and  pained  ;  for  she  spoke 
haughtily. 

"  I  know  naught  of  your  new  friend.  He  may  be  a 
low-born  man,  for  anything  that  I  can  tell." 

"He  is  not!  He  is  as  noble  as  I  am.  Every- 
thing he  says  and  does — every  look — shows  his 
birth." 

"You  are  young — as  you  have  shown  by  talking  of 
me  to  him.  But  I  have  given  you  my  advice  ;  "  and 


i6o  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

she  moved  listlessly  away.  "  Let  him  tell  your  grand- 
father who  he  is,  or  remain  suspected." 

The  boy  went  away  sadly. 

Early  the  next  morning  he  burst  into  Torfrida's 
room  as  she  was  dressing  her  hair. 

"How  now?  Are  these  manners  for  the  heir  of 
Flanders?" 

"He  has  told  all!" 

"  He  has  !  "  and  she  started  and  dropped  her  comb. 

"  Pick  up  that  comb,  girl.  You  need  not  go  away. 
I  have  no  secrets  with  young  gentlemen." 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  glad  to  hear,"  said 
Arnoul. 

"  I  ?  What  can  I  want  in  the  matter,  save  that 
your  grandfather  should  be  satisfied  that  you  are 
entertaining  a  man  worthy  to  be  your  guest  ?  " 

"And  he  is  worthy:  he  has  told  my  grandfather 
who  he  is." 

"But  not  you?" 

"  No.  They  say  I  must  not  know  yet.  But  this  I 
know,  that  they  welcomed  him,  when  he  told  them,  as 
if  he  had  been  an  Earl's  son  ;  and  that  he  is  going  with 
my  uncle  Robert  against  the  Zeelanders." 

"And  if  he  be  an  Earl's  son,  how  comes  he  here, 
wandering  with  rough  seamen,  and  hiding  his  honest 
name  ?  He  must  have  done  something  of  which  he  is 
ashamed." 

"  I  shall  tell  you  nothing  more." 

"What  care  I?  I  can  find  out  by  art  magic  if 
I  like." 

"  I  don't  believe  all  that.  Can  you  find  out,  for 
instance,  what  he  has  on  his  throat  ?  " 

"  A  beard." 

"  But  what  is  under  that  beard  ?" 

"A  goitre." 

"  You  are  laughing  at  me." 

"  I  shall  laugh  at  any  one  who  challenges  me  to  find 
out  anything  so  silly,  and  so  unfit." 


H.w.  Page  166. 

' '  You— you  are  Hereward  himself  1 ' ' 

F 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  161 

"  I  shall  go." 

"  Go  then."  For  she  knew  very  well  that  he  would 
come  back  again. 

"Nurse,"  said  Torfrida  to  the  old  Lapp  woman, 
when  they  were  alone,  "find  out  for  me  what  is  the 
name  of  this  strange  champion,  and  what  he  has 
beneath  his  beard." 

"Beneath  his  beard?" 

"Some  scar,  I  suppose,  or  secret  mark.  I  must 
know.  You  will  find  out  for  your  Torfrida,  will  you 
not,  nurse?  " 

"  I  will  make  a  charm  that  will  bring  him  to  you, 
were  all  the  icebergs  of  Quenland  between  you  and 
him  :  and  then  you  can  see  for  yourself." 

"  No,  no,  no  !  not  yet,  nurse  !  "  and  Torfrida  smiled. 
"Only  find  me  out  that  one  thing:  that  I  must 
know." 

And  yet  why  she  wanted  to  know,  she  could  not  tell 
herself. 

The  old  woman  came  back  to  her,  ere  she  went 
tc  bed. 

"  I  have  found  it  out  all,  and  more.  I  know  where 
to  get  scarlet  toadstools  ;  and  I  put  the  juice  in  his 
men's  ale  :  they  are  laughing  and  roaring  now,  merry- 
mad  every  one  of  them." 

"But  not  he?" 

"  No,  no.  He  is  with  the  Marquis.  But  in  madness 
comes  out  truth ;  and  that  long  hook-nosed  body- 
varlet  of  his  has  told  us  all." 

And  she  told  Torfrida  who  Hereward  was,  and  the 
secret  mark. 

"  There  is  a  cross  upon  his  throat,  beneath  his  chin  ; 
pricked  in  after  their  English  fashion." 

Torfrida  started. 

"Then — then  the  spell  will  not  work  upon  him  ;  the 
Holy  Cross  will  turn  it  off." 

"  It  must  be  a  great  cross  and  a  holy  one  that  will 
turn  off  my  charms,"  said  the  old  hag,  with  a  sneer. 

H.W.  F 


i62  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

"  whatever  it  may  do  against  yours.  But  on  the  back 
of  his  hand — that  will  be  a  mark  to  know  him  by — 
there  is  pricked  a  bear — a  white  bear  that  he  slew." 
And  she  told  the  story  of  the  fairy  beast ;  which 
Torfrida  duly  stored  up  in  her  heart. 

"So  he  has  the  cross  on  his  throat,"  thought 
Torfrida  to  herself.  "Well,  if  it  keep  off  my  charm, 
it  will  keep  off  others — that  is  one  comfort :  and  one 
knows  not  what  fairies,  or  witches,  or  evil  creatures, 
he  may  meet  with  in  the  forests  and  the  fens." 

The  discovery  of  Hereward's  rank  did  not,  doubtless, 
lessen  Torfrida's  fancy  for  him.  She  was  ambitious 
enough,  and  proud  enough  of  her  own  lineage,  to  be 
full  glad  that  her  heart  had  strayed  away — as  [it  must 
needs  stray  somewhere  —  to  the  son  of  the  third 
greatest  man  in  England.  As  for  his  being  an  outlaw, 
that  mattered  little.  He  might  be  inlawed,  and  rich 
and  powerful,  any  day  in  those  uncertain  topsy-turvy 
times :  and  for  the  present,  his  being  a  wolfs  head 
only  made  him  the  more  interesting  to  her.  Women 
like  to  pity  their  lovers.  Sometimes — may  all  good 
beings  reward  them  for  it — they  love  merely  because 
they  pity.  And  Torfrida  found  it  pleasant  to  pity  the 
insolent  young  coxcomb,  who  certainly  never  dreamed 
of  pitying  himself. 

When  Hereward  went  home  that  night,  he  found 
the  Abbey  of  St.  Bertin  in  horrible  confusion.  His 
men  were  grouped  outside  the  gate,  chattering  like 
monkeys  ;  the  porter  and  the  monks,  from  inside, 
entreating  them  vainly  to  come  in  and  go  to  bed 
quietly. 

But  they  would  not.  They  vowed  and  swore  that 
a  great  gulf  had  opened  all  down  the  road,  and  that 
one  step  more  would  tumble  them  in  headlong.  They 
manifested  the  most  affectionate  solicitude  for  the 
monks,  warning  them,  on  their  lives,  not  to  step 
across  the  threshold,  or  they  would  be  swallowed  (as 
Martin,  who  was  the  maddest  of  the  lot,  phrased  it)  with 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  163 

Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram.  In  vain  Hereward 
stormed  ;  assured  them  that  the  supposed  abyss  was 
nothing  but  the  gutter  ;  proved  the  fact  by  kicking 
Martin  over  it : — the  men  determined  to  believe  their 
own  eyes,  and  after  awhile  fell  asleep  in  heaps  in  the 
roadside,  and  lay  there  till  morning,  when  they  woke, 
declaring,  as  did  the  monks,  that  they  had  been  all 
bewitched.  They  knew  not — and  happily  the  lower 
orders  both  in  England  and  on  the  Continent  do  not 
yet  know — the  potent  virtues  of  that  strange  fungus, 
with  which  Lapps  and  Samoiedes  have,  it  is  said, 
practised  wonders  for  centuries  past. 

The  worst  of  the  matter  was,  that  Martin  Lightfoot, 
who  had  drunk  most  of  the  poison,  and  had  always 
been  dreamy  and  uncanny,  in  spite  of  his  shrewdness 
and  humour,  had  from  that  day  forward  something 
very  like  a  bee  in  his  bonnet. 

But  before  Count  Robert  and  Hereward  could 
collect  sufficient  troops  for  the  invasion  of  Holland, 
another  chance  of  being  slain  in  fight  arose,  too 
tempting  to  be  overlooked ;  namely,  the  annual 
tournament  at  Pons  and  Poitiers, T  where  all  the 
noblest  knights  of  France  would  assemble,  to  win 
their  honour  and  ladies'  love  by  hewing  at  each  other's 
sinful  bodies.  Thither,  too,  over  three  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  of  bad  road,  the  best  knights  of  Flanders 
must  needs  go  ;  and  with  them  Hereward.  Though 
no  knight,  he  was  allowed  in  Flanders,  as  he  had  been 
in  Scotland,  to  take  his  place  among  that  honourable 
company.  For  though  he  still  refused  the  honour  of 
knighthood,  on  the  ground  that  he  had  as  yet  done  no 
deed  deserving  thereof,  he  was  held  to  have  deserved 
it  again  and  again,  and  all  the  more  from  his  modesty 
in  declining  it. 

So  away  they  all  went  to  Poitiers,  a  right  gallant 
meinie  :  while  Torfrida  watched  them  go  from  the 
lattice  window. 

1  "  Apud  Pontcs  et  Pictaviam  " — Pons  in  Xaintong-e. 


164  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

And  when  they  had  passed  down  the  street,  tramp- 
ing and  gingling  and  caracoling,  young  Arnoul  ran 
into  the  house  with  eyes  full  of  tears,  because  he  was 
not  allowed  to  go  likewise  ;  and  with  a  message  for 
Torfrida  from  no  other  than  Hereward. 

"  I  was  to  tell  you  this  and  no  more  :  that  if  he 
meets  your  favour  in  the  field,  he  that  wears  it  will 
have  hard  work  to  keep  it." 

Torfrida  turned  as  pale  as  ashes  ;  first  \tith  wild 
delight,  and  then  with  wild  fear. 

"  Ha  ? — does  he  know  who — Sir  Ascelin  ?  " 

"He  knows  well  enough.  Why  not?  Every  one 
knows.  Are  you  afraid  that  he  is  not  a  match  for 
that  great  ox  ?  " 

"Afraid?  Who  said  I  was  afraid?  Sir  Ascelin  is 
no  ox  either ;  but  a  courteous  and  gallant  knight." 

"  You  are  as  pale  as  death  ;  and  Sir " 

"Never  mind  what  I  am,"  said  she,  putting  her 
hands  over  the  boy's  eyes,  and  kissing  him  again  and 
again,  as  a  vent  for  her  joy. 

The  next  few  days  seemed  years  for  length  :  but  she 
could  wait.  She  was  sure  of  him  now.  She  needed 
no  charms.  "Perhaps,"  thought  she,  as  she  looked 
in  the  glass,  "I  was  my  own  charm."  And  indeed 
she  had  a  fair  right  to  say  so. 

At  last  news  came. 

Torfrida  was  sitting  over  her  books  ;  her  mother, 
as  usual,  was  praying  in  the  churches  ;  when  the  old 
Lapp  nurse  came  in.  A  knight  was  at  the  door.  He 
said  his  name  was  Siward  the  White,  and  he  came 
from  Hereward. 

From  Hereward  !  He  was  at  least  alive  :  he  might 
be  wounded,  though  ;  and  she  rushed  out  of  the 
chamber  into  the  hall,  looking  more  beautiful  than 
ever  ;  her  colour  heightened  by  the  quick  beating  of 
her  heart ;  her  dark  hair,  worn  loose  and  long,  after 
the  fashion  of  those  days,  streaming  around  her  and 
behind  her. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  165 

A  handsome  young  man  stood  in  the  doorway, 
armed  from  head  to  foot. 

"  You  are  Siward,  Hereward's  nephew  ?  " 

He  bowed  assent.  She  took  him  by  the  hands,  and, 
after  the  fashion  of  those  days,  kissed  him  on  the 
small  space  on  either  cheek,  which  was  left  bare 
between  the  nose-piece  and  the  chain-mail. 

"  You  are  welcome.     Hereward  is — alive?  " 

"  Alive  and. gay,  and  all  the  more  gay  at  being  able 
to  send  to  the  Lady  Torfrida  by  me  something  which 
was  once  hers,  and  now  is  hers  once  more." 

And  he  drew  from  his  bosom  the  ribbon  of  the 
knight  of  St.  Valeri. 

She  almost  snatched  it  from  his  hand,  in  her 
delight  at  recovering  her  favour. 

"  How — where — did  he  get  this  ?  " 

"  He  saw  it,  in  the  thick  of  the  tournament,  on  the 
helm  of  a  knight  who,  he  knew,  had  vowed  to  maim 
him  or  take  his  life  ;  and,  wishing  to  give  him  a 
chance  of  fulfilling  his  vow,  rode  him  down,  horse 
and  man.  The  knight's  French  friends  attacked  us 
in  force  ;  and  we  Flemings,  with  Hereward  at  our 
head,  beat  them  off ;  and  overthrew  so  many,  that  we 
are  almost  all  horsed  at  the  Frenchmen's  expense. 
Three  more  knights,  with  their  horses,  fell  before 
Hereward's  lance." 

' '  And  what  of  this  favour  ?  " 

"  He  sends  it  to  its  owner.  Let  her  say  what  shall 
be  done  with  it." 

Torfrida  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "  He  has  won 
it,  let  him  wear  it  for  my  sake."  But  she  paused. 
She  longed  to  see  Hereward  face  to  face  ;  to  speak 
to  him,  if  but  one  word.  If  she  allowed  him  to  wear 
the  favour,  she  must  at  least  have  the  pleasure 
of  giving  it  with  her  own  hands.  And  she 
paused. 

"And  he  is  killed?" 

"Who?     Hereward?" 


166  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

"  Sir  Ascelin." 

"  Only  bruised;  but  he  shall  be  killed,  if  you  will." 

"  God  forbid  I" 

"  Then/'  said  the  knight,  mistaking  her  meaning, 
"  all  I  have  to  tell  Hereward  is,  it  seems,  that  he  has 
wasted  his  blow.  He  will  "return,  therefore,  to  the 
knight  of  St.  Valeri  his  horse,  and,  if  the  Lady 
Torfrida  chooses,  the  favour  which  he  has  taken  by 
mistake  from  its  rightful  owner."  And  he  set  his 
teeth,  and  could  not  prevent  stamping  on  the  ground, 
in  evident  passion.  There  was  a  tone,  too,  of  deep 
disappointment  in  his  voice,  which  made  Torfrida 
look  keenly  at  him.  Why  should  Hereward's  nephew 
feel  so  deeply  about,  that" favour?  And  as  she  looked 
— could  that  man  be  the  youth  Siward?  Young  he 
was,  but  surely  thirty  years  old  at  least.  His  face 
could  hardly  be  seen,  hidden  by  helmet  and  nose-piece 
above,  and  mailed  up  to  the  mouth  below.  But  his 
long  moustache  was  that  of  a  grown  ^  man;  his  vast 
breadth  of  shoulder,  his  hard  hand,  his  sturdy  Kmbs, 
— these  surely  belonged  not  to  the  slim  youth  whom 
she  had  seen  from  her  lattice  riding  at  Hereward's 
side.  And,  as  she  looked,  she  saw  upon  his  hand  the 
bear  of  which  her  nurse  had  told  her. 

"  Yon  are  deceiving  me !  "  and  she  turned  first 
deadly  pale,  and  then  crimson.  "  You— you  are 
Hereward  himself !  " 

"I?  Pardon  me,  my  lady.  Ten  minutes  ago  I 
should  have  been  glad  enough  to  have  been  Hereward. 
Now  I  am  thankful  enough  that  I  am  only  .Siward; 
and  not  Hereward,  who  wins  for  himself  contempt 
by  overthrowing  a  knight  more  fortunate  than  he." 
And  he  bowed,  and  turned  away  to  go. 

"  Hereward  !  Hereward  !  "  and,  in  her  passion, 
she  seized  him  by  both  his  hands.  "  I  know  you  ! 
I  know  that  device  upon  your  hand.  At  last !  at  last  ! 
My  hero,  my  Paladin  !  How  I  have  longed  for  this 
moment !  How  I  have  toiled  for  it,  and  not  in  vain  ! 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  167 

Alas,  alas  !— what  am  I  saying  ?  "  And  she  tried,  in 
her  turn,  to  escape  from  Hereward's  mailed  arms. 

"  Then  you  do  not  care  for  that  man  ?  " 

"For  him?  Here,  take  my  favour,  wear  it  before 
all  the  world,  and  guard  it  as  you  only  can ;  and 
let  all  know  that  Torfrida  is  your  love." 

And  with  hands  trembling"  with  passion  she  bound 
the  ribbon  round  his  helm. 

"Yes  !  I  am  Hereward,"  he  almost  shouted  ;  "  the 
Berserker,  the  brain-hewer,  the  land-thief,  the  sea- 
thief,  the  feeder  of  wolf  and  raven — Aoi !  Ere  my 
beard  was  grown,  I  was  a  match  for  giants.  How 
much  more  now  that  I  am  a  man  whom  ladies  love  ? 
Many  a  champion  has  quailed  before  my  very  glance. 
How  much  more  now  that  I  were  Torfrida's  gift  ? 
Aoi ! " 

Torfrida  has  often  heard  that  wild  battle-cry  of 
Aoi !  of  which  the  early  minstrels  were  so  fond — with 
which  the  great  poet  who  wrote  the  Song  of  Roland 
ends  every  paragraph  ;  which  has  now  fallen  (dis- 
placed by  our  modern  Hurrah)  to  be  merely  a  sailor's 
call  or  hunter's  cry.  But  she  shuddered  as  she  heard 
it  close  to  her  ears  ;  and  saw,  from  the  flashing  eye 
and  dilated  nostril,  the  temper  of  the  man  on  whom 
she  had  thrown  herself  so  utterly.  She  laid  her  hand 
upon  his  lips. 

"Silence!  silence  for  pity's  sake.  Remember  that 
you  are  in  a  maiden's  house  ;  and  think  of  her  good 
fame." 

Hereward  collected  himself  instantly,  and  then, 
holding  her  at  arm's  length,  gazed  upon  her.  "  I 
was  mad  a  moment.  But  is  it  not  enough  to  make 
me  mad  to  look  at  you  ?  " 

"  Do  not  look  at  me  so,  I  cannot  bear  it,"  said  she, 
hanging  down  her  head.  "You  forget  that  I  am  a 
poor  weak  girl." 

"Ah!  we  are  rough  wooers,  we  sea-rovers.  We 
cannot  pay  globing  French  compliments  like  your 


168  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

knights  here,  who  fawn  on  a  damsel  with  soft  words 
in  the  hall,  and  will  kiss  the  dust  off  their  queen's 
feet,  and  die  for  a  hair  of  their  goddess's  eyebrow  ; 
and  then  if  they  find  her  alone  in  the  forest,  show 
themselves  as  very  ruffians  as  if  they  were  Paynim 
Moors.  We  are  rough,  lady,  we  English  :  but  those 
who  trust  us  find  us  true." 

"And  I  can  trust  you?"  she  asked,  still  trembling. 

"On  God's  cross  there  round  your  neck,"  and  he 
took  her  crucifix  and  kissed  it.  "You  only  I  love, 
you  only  I  will  love,  and  you  will  I  love  in  all  honesty, 
before  the  angels  of  heaven,  till  we  be  wedded  man 
and  wife.  Who  but  a  fool  would  soil  the  flower 
which  he  means  to  wear  before  all  the  world  ?  " 

"I  knew  Hereward  was  noble  !  I  knew  I  had  not 
trusted  him  in  vain  !  " 

"  I  kept  faith  and  honour  with  the  Princess  of 
Cornwall,  when  I  had  her  at  my  will,  and  shall  I  not 
keep  faith  and  honour  with  you  ?  " 

"The  Princess  of  Cornwall  ?  "  asked  Torfrida. 

"  Do  not  be  jealous,  fair  queen.  I  brought  her  safe 
to  her  betrothed  ;  and  wedded  she  is,  long  ago.  I  will 
tell  you  that  story  some  day.  And  now — I  must  go." 

"Not  yet!  not  yet!  I  have  something  to  —  to 
show  you." 

She  motioned  him  to  go  up  the  narrow  stairs,  or 
rather  ladder,  which  led  to  the  upper  floor,  and  then 
led  him  into  her  chamber. 

A  lady's  chamber  was  then,  in  days  when  privacy 
was  little  cared  for,  her  usual  reception-room  ;  and  the 
bed,  which  stood  in  an  alcove,  served  as  a  common 
seat  for  her  and  her  guests.  But  Torfrida  did  not  ask 
him  to  sit  down.  She  led  the  way  onward  towards 
a  door  beyond. 

Hereward  followed,  glancing  with  awe  at  the 
books,  parchments,  and  strange  instruments  which 
lay  on  the  table  and  the  floor. 

The   old    Lapp  nurse   sat   in   the  window,   sewing 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  169 

busily.  She  looked  up,  and  smiled  meaningly.  But 
as  she  saw  Torfrida  unlock  the  further  door  with  one  of 
the  keys  which  hung  at  her  girdle,  she  croaked  out : 

"Too  fast!  Too  fast!  Trust  lightly,  and  repent 
heavily." 

"Trust  at  once,  or  trust  never,"  said  Torfrida,  as 
she  opened  the  door. 

Hereward  saw  within  rich  dresses  hung  on  perches 
round  the  wall,  and  chests  barred  and  padlocked. 

"  These  are  treasures,"  said  she,  "which  many  a 
knight  and  nobleman  has  coveted.  By  cunning,  by 
flattery,  by  threats  of  force  even,  have  they  tried  to 
win  what  lies  here — and  Torfrida  herself,  too,  for  the 
sake  of  her  wealth.  But  thanks  to  the  Abbot  my 
uncle,  Torfrida  is  still  her  own  mistress,  and  mistress 
of  the  wealth  which  her  forefathers  won  by  sea  and 
land  far  away  in  the  East.  All  here  is  mine — and  if 
you  be  but  true  to  me,  all  mine  is  yours.  Lift  the  lid 
for  me,  it  is  too  heavy  for  my  arms." 

Hereward  did  so  ;  and  saw  within  golden  cups  and 
bracelets,  horns  of  ivory  and  silver,  bags  of  coin,  and 
among  them  a  mail  shirt  and  helmet,  on  which  he 
fixed  at  once  silent  and  greedy  eyes. 

She  looked  at  his  face  askance,  and  smiled.  "Yes, 
these  are  more  to  Hereward's  taste  than  gold  and 
jewels.  And  he  shall  have  them.  He  shall  have 
them  as  a  proof  that  if  Torfrida  has  set  her  love 
upon  a  worthy  knight,  she  is  at  least  worthy  of  him  ;  and 
does  not  demand  without  being  able  to  give  in  return." 

And  she  took  out  the  armour  and  held  it  up  to  him. 

"  This  is  the  work  of  dwarfs  or  enchanters  !  This 
was  not  forged  by  mortal  man  !  It  must  have  come 
out  of  some  old  cavern,  or  dragon's  hoard  !  "  said 
Hereward,  in  astonishment  at  the  extreme  delicacy 
and  slightness  of  the  mail-rings,  and  the  richness  of 
the  gold  and  silver  with  which  both  hauberk  and 
helm  were  inlaid. 

"  Enchanted  it  is,  they  say  ;  but  its  maker,  who  can 


170  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

tell  ?  My  ancestor  won  it,  and  by  the  side  of  Charles 
Martel.  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you  how. 

"You  have  heard  of  fair  Provence,  where  1  spent 
my  youth  ;  the  land  of  the  sunny  south  ;  the  land  of 
the  fig  and  the  olive,  the  mulberry  and  the  rose,  the 
tulip  and  the  anemone,  and  all  rich  fruits  and  fair 
flowers,  —  the  land  where  every  city  is  piled  with 
temples,  and  theatres,  and  towers  as  high  as  heaven, 
which  the  old  Romans  built  with  their  enchantments, 
and  tormented  the  blessed  martyrs  therein." 

"  Sun  in  heaven  !  How  beautiful  you  are  !  "  cried 
Hereward,  as  her  voice  shaped  itself  into  a  song,  and  her 
eyes  flashed,  at  the  remembrance  of  her  southern  home. 

Torfrida  was  not  altogether  angry  at  finding  that  he 
was  thinking  of  her,  and  not  of  her  words. 

"  Peace,  and  listen.  You  know  how  the  Paynim 
held  that  land — the  Saracens,  to  whom  Mahound 
taught  all  the  wisdom  of  Solomon — as  they  teach  us 
in  turn,"  she  added  in  a  lower  voice. 

"  And  how  Charles  and  his  Paladins "  [Charles 
Martel  and  Charlemagne  were  perpetually  confounded 
in  the  legends  of  the  time]  "  drove  them  out,  and  con- 
quered the  country  again  for  God  and  His  Mother." 

' '  I  have  heard "  but  he  did  not  take  his  eyes  off 

her  face. 

"They  were  in  the  amphitheatre  at  Aries,  the 
Saracens,  where  the  blessed  martyr  St.  Trophimus 
had  died  in  torments  ;  they  had  set  up  their  idol  of 
Mahound,  and  turned  the  place  into  a  fortress. 
Charles  burnt  it  over  their  heads  :  you  see — I  have 
seen — the  blackened  walls,  the  bloodstained  marbles, 
to  this  day.  Then  they  fled  into  the  plain,  and  there 
they  turned  and  fought.  Under  Montmajour,  by  the 
hermit's  cell,  they  fought  a  summer's  day,  till  they 
were  all  slain.1  There  was  an  Emir  among  them, 

1 1  have  followed  the  old  legends,  as  TorfriHa  would  have  heard  them ;  and 
they  are  not  altogether  to  be  disbelieved.  The  Church  of  the  Holy  Cross,  perhaps 
the  most  beautiful  Romanesque  building  in  Europe,  is  said  to  date  not  from  the 
year  739,  but  from  1019,  and  from  Pons  de  Mnrignati,  Bishop  of  Aries. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  171 

black  as  a,  raven,  clad  in  magic  armour.  All  lances 
turned  from  it,  all  swords  shivered  on  it.  He  rode 
through  the  press  without  a  wound,  while  every 
stroke  of  his  scimitar  shore  off  a  head  of  horse  or 
man.  Charles  himself  rode  at  him,  and  smote  him 
with  his  hammer.  They  heard  the  blow  in  Avignon, 
full  thirty  miles  away.  The  flame  flashed  out  from  the 
magic  armour  a  fathom's  length,  blinding  all  around; 
and  when  they  recovered  their  sight,  the  enchanter 
was  far  away  in  the  battle,  killing  as  he  went. 

"  Then  Charles  cried,  '  Who  will  stop  that  devil, 
whom  no  steel  can  wound?  Help  us,  O  blessed 
martyr  St.  Trophimus,  and  save  the  soldiers  of  the 
cross  from  shame  ! ' 

"Then,  cried  Toririd  my  forefather — 'What  use  in 
crying  to  St.  Trophimus?  He  could  not  help  himself, 
when  the  Paynim  burnt  him  :  and  how  can  he  help 
us  ?  A  tough  arm  is  worth  a  score  of  martyrs  here/ 

"  And  he  rode  at  that  Emir,  and  gript  him  in  his 
arms.  They  both  fell,  and  rolled  together  on  the 
ground  :  but  Toririd  never  loosed  his  hold  till  he  had 
crushed  out  his  unbaptized  soul,  and  sent  it  to  join 
Mahound  in  hell. 

"  Then  he  took  his  armour,  and  brought  it  home 
in  triumph.  But  after  awhile  he  fell  sick  of  a  fever; 
and  the  blessed  St.  Trophimus  appeared  to  him,  and 
told  him  that  it  was  a  punishment  for  his  blasphemy 
in  the  battle.  So  he  repented,  and  vowed  to  serve 
the  saint  all  his  life.  On  which  he  was  healed 
instantly,  and  fell  to  religion,  and  went  back  to 
Montmajour;  and  there  he  was  a  hermit  in  the  cave 
under  the  rock,  and  tended  the  graves  hewn  in  the 

But  the  rock  graves  round — some  of  them  very  old,  though  not  those  of 
"  primitive  Christians" — indicate  a  refigio  loci,  which  must  have  been  the 
cause,  not  the  consequence,  of  tke  church.  Probably  an  older  building  had 
existed  on  the  site.  And,  certainly,  if  the  monks  of  Montmajour  had  invented 
both  legend  and  place,,  they  would  have  rather  chosen  for  the  latter  St. 
Trophimus'  cave  in  the  hiM  above,  which  is,  surely,  deducting  the  Romanesque 
additions,  one  of  the  earliest  of  Christian  monuments.  Moreover,  the  very 
name  Montmajour,  the  "  Mayor's  Mount,"  points  to  Charles  Martel  as  thus 
hero  of  the  isolated  kill  forming  so  strong  a  miliuj-y  position  in  the  wide  plain. 


i72  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

living  stone,  where  his  old  comrades,  the  Paladins 
who  were  slain,  sleep  side  by  side  round  the  church 
of  the  Holy  Cross.  But  the  armour  he  left  here ; 
and  he  laid  a  curse  upon  it,  that  whosoever  of  his 
descendants  should  lose  that  armour  in  fight,  should 
die  childless,  without  a  son  to  wield  a.  sword.  And 
therefore  it  is  that  none  of  his  ancestors,  valiant  as 
they  have  been,  have  dared  to  put  this  harness  on 
their  backs.' 

And  so  ended  a  story,  which  Torfrida  believed 
utterly,  and  Hereward  likewise. 

"And  now,  Hereward  mine,  dare  you  wear  that 
magic  armour,  and  face  old  Torfrid's  curse  ?  " 

"What  dare  I  not?" 

"  Think.     If  you  lose  it,  in  you  your  race  must  end." 

"  Let  it  end.     I  accept  the  curse.'1 

And  he  put  the  armour  on. 

But  he  trembled  as  he  did  it.  Atheism  and  super- 
stition go  too  often  hand-in-hand  ;  and  godless  as  he 
was,  sceptical  of  Providence  itself,  and  much  more 
of  the  help  of  saint  or  angel,  still  the  curse  of  the 
old  warrior,  like  the  malice  of  a  witch  or  a  demon, 
was  to  him  a  thing  possible,  probable,  and  formidable. 

Torfrida  looked  at  him  in  pride  and  exultation. 

"It  is  yours — the  invulnerable  harness  !  Wear  it 
in  the  forefront  of  the  battle  !  And  if  weapon  wound 
you  through  it,  may  I,  as  punishment  for  my  lie,  suffer 
the  same  upon  my  tender  body — a  wound  for  every 
wound  of  yours,  my  knight !  "  T 

And  after  that  they  sat  side  by  side,  and  talked  of 
love  with  all  honour  and  honesty,  never  heeding  the 
old  hag,  who  crooned  to  herself  in  her  barbarian 
tongue : 

Quick  thaw,  long  frost, 

Quick  joy,  long  pain, 

Soon  found,  soon  lost, 

You  will  take  your  gift  again. 

1  "  Volo  enim  in  tneo  tale  quid  nuiic  perpeti  corpare  semel,  quicquid  eas  ferret 
vel  e  mptallo  prr.pr1prnt." 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  173 

CHAPTER  XI. 

HOW    THE    HOLLANDERS    TOOK    HERBWARD   FOR    A 
MAGICIAN. 

OF  this  weary  Holland  war  which  dragged  itself  on 
campaign  after  campaign  for  several  years,  what  need 
to  tell  ?  There  was,  doubtless,  the  due  amount  of 
murder,  plunder,  burning,  and  worse  ;  and  the  final 
event  was  certain  from  the  beginning.  It  was  a 
struggle  between  civilised  and  disciplined  men,  armed 
to  the  teeth,  and  well  furnished  with  ships  and  military 
engines,  against  poor  simple  folk  in  "  coats  stiffened 
with  tar  and  rosin,  or  in  very  short  jackets  of  hide" 
(says  the  chronicler),  "who  fought  by  threes,  two 
with  a  hooked  lance  and  three  darts  each,  and  between 
them  a  man  with  a  sword  or  an  axe,  who  held  his 
shield  before  those  two  ; — a  very  great  multitude,  but 
in  composition  utterly  undisciplined,"  who  came  down 
to  the  sea  coast,  with  carts  and  wagons,  to  carry  off 
the  spoils  of  the  Flemings,  and  bade  them  all  surrender 
at  discretion,  and  go  home  again  after  giving  up  Count 
Robert  and  Here  ward,  with  the  "tribunes  of  the 
brigades,"  to  be  put  to  death — as  valiant  South  Sea 
islanders  might  have  done :  and  then  found  themselves 
as  sheep  to  the  slaughter  before  the  cunning  Hereward, 
whom  they  esteemed  a  magician  on  account  of  his 
craft  and  his  invulnerable  armour. 

So  at  least  says  Richard  of  Ely,  who  tells  long  con- 
fused stories  of  battles  and  campaigns,  some  of  them 
without  due  regard  to  chronology  ;  for  it  is  certain  that 
the  brave  Zeelanders  could  not  on  Robert's  first  land- 
ing have  "feared  lest  they  should  be  conquered  by 
foreigners,  as  they  had  heard  the  English  were  by  the 
French,"  inasmuch  as  that  event  had  not  then  happened. 

And  thus  much  of  the  war  among  the  Meres  of 
Scheldt. 


174  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

HOW   HEREWARD   TURNED   BERSERK. 

TORFRIDA'S  heart  misgave  her  that  first  night  as  to  the 
effects  of  her  exceeding  frankness.  Her  pride  in  the 
first  place  was  somewhat  wounded ;  she  had  dreamed 
of  a  knight  who  would  worship  her  as  his  queen,  hang 
on  her  smile,  die  at  her  frown  ;  and  she  had  meant 
to  bring  Hereward  to  her  feet  as  such  a  slave,  in 
boundless  gratitude';  but  had  he  not  rather  held  his 
own,  and  brought  her  to  his  feet,  by  assuming  her 
devotion  as  his  right  ?  And  if  he  assumed  that,  how 
far  could  she  trust  him  not  to  abuse  his  claim  ?  Was 
he  quite  as  perfect,  seen  close,  as  seen  afar  off? 
And  now  that  the  intoxication  of  that  meeting  had 
passed  off,  she  began  to  remember  more  than  one 
little  fault  which  she  would  have  gladly  seen  mended. 
— Certain  roughnesses  of  manner  which  contrasted 
unfavourably  with  the  polish  (merely  external  though 
it  was)  of  the  Flemish  and  Norman  knights ;  a 
boastful  self-sufficiency,  too,  which  bordered  on  the 
ludicrous  at  whiles  even  in  her  partial  eyes ;  which 
would  be  a  matter  of  open  laughter  to  the  knights 
of  the  Court.  Besides,  if  they  laughed  at  him,  they 
would  laugh  at  her  for  choosing  him.  And  then 
wounded  vanity  came  in  to  help  wounded  pride ;  and 
she  sat  over  the  cold  embers  till  almost  dawn  of  day, 
her  head  between  her  hands,  musing  sadly,  and  half 
wishing  that  the  irrevocable  yesterday  had  never  come. 
But  when,  after  a  few  months,  Hereward  returned 
from  his  first  campaign  in  Holland,  covered  with  glory 
and  renown,  all  smiles,  and  beauty,  and  health,  and 
good  humour,  and  gratitude  for  the  magic  armour 
which  had  preserved  him  unhurt,  then  Torfrida  forgot 
all  her  fears,  and  thought  herself  the  happiest  maid 
alive  for  four-and-twenty  hours  at  least. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  175 

And  then  came  back,  and  after  that  again  and 
ag-ain,  the  old  fears.  Gradually  she  found  out  that 
the  sneers  which  she  had  heard  at  English  barbarians 
were  not  altogether  without  ground.  Not  only  had 
her  lover's  life  been  passed  among  half  brutal  and  wild 
adventurers ;  but,  like  the  rest  of  his  nation,  he  had 
never  felt  the  influence  of  that  classic  civilisation 
without  which  good  manners  seem,  even  to  this  day, 
almost  beyond  the  reach  of  the  Western  races.  Those 
among  whom  she  had  been  brought  up,  whether 
soldiers  or  clerks,  were  probably  no  nobler  or  purer 
at  heart — she  would  gladly  have  believed  them  far  less 
so — than  Hereward  ;  but  the  merest  varnish  of  Roman 
culture  had  given  a  charm  to  their  manners,  a  wideness 
of  range  to  their  thoughts,  which  Hereward  had  not. 

Especially  when  he  had  taken  too  much  to  drink — 
which  he  did,  after  the  Danish  fashion,  far  oftener 
than  the  rest  of  Robert's  men — he  grew  rude,  boastful, 
quarrelsome.  He  would  chant  his  own  doughty  deeds  ; 
and  gab  (as  the  Norman  word  was),  in  painful  earnest, 
while  they  gabbed  only  in  sport,  and  outvied  each 
other  in  impossible  fanfarronades,  simply  to  laugh 
down  a  fashion  which  was  held  inconsistent  with  the 
modesty  of  a  true  knight.  Bitter  it  was  to  her  to 
hear  him  announce  to  the  company,  not  for  the  first 
or  second  time,  how  he  had  slain  the  Cornish  giant, 
whose  height  increased  by  a  foot  at  least  every  time 
he  was  mentioned  ;  and  then  to  hear  him  answered 
by  some  smart,  smooth-shaven  youth,  who,  with  as 
much  mimicry  of  his  manner  as  he  dared  to  assume, 
boasted  of  having  slain  in  Araby  a  giant  with  two 
heads,  and  taken  out  of  his  two  mouths  the  two  halves 
of  the  princess  whom  he  was  devouring,  which  being 
joined  together  afterwards  by  the  prayers  of  a  holy 
hermit,  were  delivered  back  safe  and  sound  to  her 
father  the  King  of  Antioch.  And  more  bitter  still  was 
it  to  hear  Hereward  angrily  dispute  the  story,  unaware 
(at  least  at  first)  that  he  was  being  laughed  at. 


176  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Then  she  grew  sometimes  cold,  sometimes  con- 
temptuous, sometimes  altogether  fierce ;  and  shed 
bitter  tears  in  secret,  when  she  was  complimented 
on  the  modesty  of  her  young  savage. 

But  Torfrida  was  a  brave  maiden  ;  and  what  was 
more,  she  loved  him  with  all  her  heart.  Else  why 
endure  bitter  words  for  his  sake?  And  she  set 
herself  to  teach  and  train  the  wild  outlaw  into  her 
ideal  of  a  very  perfect  knight. 

She  talked  to  him  of  modesty  and  humility,  the  root 
of  all  virtues  ;  of  chivalry  and  self-sacrifice  ;  of  respect 
to  the  weak,  and  mercy  to  the  fallen  ;  of  devotion  to 
God,  and  awe  of  His  commandments.  She  set  before 
him  the  example  of  ancient  heroes  and  philosophers, 
of  saints  and  martyrs  ;  and  as  much  awed  him  by  her 
learning,  as  by  the  new  world  of  higher  and  purer 
morality,  which  was  opened  for  the  first  time  to  the 
wandering  Viking. 

He,  for  his  part,  drank  it  all  in.  Taught  by  a 
woman  who  loved  him,  he  could  listen  to  humiliating- 
truths,  which  he  would  have  sneered  at,  had  they 
come  from  the  lips  of  a  hermit  or  a  priest.  Often  he 
rebelled ;  often  he  broke  loose,  and  made  her  angry, 
and  himself  ashamed  :  but  the  spell  was  on  him — a  far 
surer,  as  well  as  purer  spell  than  any  love-potion  of 
which  foolish  Torfrida  had  ever  dreamed — the  only 
spell  which  can  really  civilise  man — that  of  woman's 
tact,  and  woman's  purity. 

Nevertheless  there  were  relapses,  as  was  natural. 
The  wine  at  Robert  the  Prison's  table  was  often  too 
good ;  and  then  Hereward's  tongue  was  loosed,  and 
Torfrida  justly  indignant.  And  one  evening,  there 
came  a  very  serious  relapse,  out  of  which  arose  a 
strange  adventure. 

It  befell  that  the  Great  Marquis  sent  for  his  son  to 
Bruges,  ere  he  set  out  for  another  campaign  in 
Holland  ;  and  made  him  a  great  feast,  to  which  he 
invited  Torfrida  and  her  mother.  For  Adela  of  France, 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  177 

the  Queen-Countess,  had  heard  so  much  of  Torfrida's 
beauty,  that  she  must  needs  have  her  as  one  of  her 
bower-maidens ;  and  her  mother,  who  was  an  old 
friend  of  Adela's,  of  course  was  highly  honoured  by 
such  a  promotion  for  her  daughter. 

So  they  went  to  Bruges,  and  Hereward  and  his 
men  went  with  them  ;  and  they  feasted,  and  harped, 
and  sang  ;  and  the  saying  was  fulfilled  : 

'Tis  merry  in  the  hall 
When  beards  wag  all. 

But  the  only  beard  which  wagged  in  that  hall  was 
Hereward's ;  for  the  Flemings,  like  the  Normans, 
prided  themselves  on  their  civilised  and  smooth-shaven 
chins,  and  laughed  (behind  his  back)  at  Hereward, 
who  prided  himself  on  keeping  his  beautiful  English 
beard,  with  locks  of  gold  which,  like  his  long  golden 
hair,  were  combed  and  curled  daily,  after  the  fashion 
of  the  Anglo-Danes. 

After  a  while,  Hereward's  beard  began  to  wag 
somewhat  too  fast,  as  he  sat  by  Torfrida's  side.  For 
some  knight  near  began  to  tell  of  a  wonderful  mare 
called  Swallow,  which  was  to  be  found  in  one  of  the 
islands  of  the  Scheldt,  and  was  famous  through  all 
the  country  round ;  and  insinuated,  moreover,  that 
Hereward  might  as  well  have  brought  that  marc 
home  with  him  as  a  trophy. 

To  which  Hereward  answered,  in  his  boasting  vein, 
that  he  would  bring  home  that  mare,  or  aught  else 
that  he  had  a  liking  to. 

"You  will  find  it  not  so  easy.  Her  owner,  they 
say,  is  a  mighty  strong  churl  of  a  horse-breeder,  Dick 
Hammerhand  by  name  ;  and  as  for  cutting  his  throat, 
that  you  must  not  do ;  for  he  has  been  loyal  to 
Countess  Gertrude,  and  sent  her  horses  whenever 
she  needed." 

"  One  may  pick  a  fair  quarrel  with  him  nevertheless." 

"  Then  you  must  bide  such  a  buffet  as  you  never 


r78  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

abode  before.  They  say  his  arm  has  seven  men's 
strength ;  and  whosoever  visits  him,  he  challenges 
to  give  and  take  a  blow  :  but  no  man  that  has  taken 
a  blow  as  yet,  has  ever  needed  another." 

"  Hereward  will  have  need  of  his  magic  head-piece, 
if  he  tries  that  adventure,"  quoth  another. 

"Ay,"  retorted  the  first  speaker;  "but  the  helmet 
may  stand  the  rap  well  enough,  and  yet  the  brains 
inside  be  the  worse." 

"Not  a  doubt.  I  knew  a  man  once,  who  was  so 
strong  that  he  would  shake  a  nut  till  the  kernel  went 
to  powder,  and  yet  never  break  the  shell." 

"  That  is  a  lie  !  "  quoth  Hereward.  And  so  it  was, 
and  told  purposely  to  make  him  expose  himself. 

Whereon  high  words  followed,  which  Torfrida  tried 
in  vain  to  stop.  Hereward  was  flushed  with  ire  and 
scorn. 

"  Magic  armour,  forsooth ! "  cried  he  at  last. 
"What  care  I  for  armour  or  for  magic?  I  will 
wager  to  you" — "my  armour,"  he  was  on  the  point 
of  saying,  but  he  checked  himself  in  time — ' '  any 
horse  in  my  stable,  that  I  go  in  my  shirt  to  Scald- 
mariland,  and  bring  back  that  mare  single-handed." 

"  Hark  to  the  Englishman !  He  has  turned 
Berserker  at  last,  like  his  forefathers.  You  will 
surely  start  in  a  pair  of  hose  as  well,  or  the  ladies 
will  be  shamed  ?  " 

And  so  forth,  till  Torfrida  was  purple  with  shame, 
and  wished  herself  fathoms  deep ;  and  Adela  of 
France  called  sternly  from  the  head  of  the  table  to 
sk  what  the  wrangling  meant. 

"  It  is  only  the  English  Berserker,  the  Lady  Torfrida's 
champion,"  said  some  one  in  his  most  courteous  tone, 
"who  is  not  yet  as  well  acquainted  with  the  customs 
of  knighthood  as  that  fair  lady  hopes  to  make  him 
hereafter." 

"Torfrida's  champion?"  asked  Adela,  in  a  tone  of 
surprise,  if  not  scorn. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  179 

"  If  any  knight  quarrels  with  my  Hereward,  he 
quarrels  with  Robert  himself ! "  thundered  Count 
Robert.  "Silence!" 

And  so  the  matter  was  hushed  up. 

The  banquet  ended  ;  and  they  walked  out  into  the 
garden  to  cool  their  heads, and  play  at  games,  and  dance. 

Torfrida  avoided  Hereward :  but  he,  with  the 
foolish  pertinacity  of  a  man  who  knows  he  has  had 
too  much  wine,  and  yet  pretends  to  himself  that  he 
has  not,  would  follow  her,  and  speak  to  her. 

She  turned  away  more  than  once.  At  last  she 
was  forced  to  speak  to  him. 

"So!  You  have  made  me  a  laughing-stock  to 
these  knights.  You  have  scorned  at  my  gifts.  You 
have  said — and  before  these  men,  too — that  you  need 
neither  helm  nor  hauberk.  Give  me  them  back,  then, 
Berserker  as  you  are,  and  go  sleep  off  your  wine." 

"That  will  I,"  laughed  Hereward  boisterously. 

"You  are  tipsy,"  said  she,  "and  do  not  know 
what  you  say." 

"You  are  angry,  and  do  not  know  what  you  say. 
Hearken,  proud  lass.  I  will  take  care  of  one  thing, 
and  that  is,  that  you  shall  speak  the  truth." 

"  Did  I  not  say  that  you  were  tipsy?  " 

"Pish!  You  said  that  I  was  a  Berserker.  And 
truth  you  shall  speak  ;  for  baresark  I  go  to-morrow 
to  the  war,  and  baresark  I  win  that  mare  or  die." 

"  That  will  be  very  fit  for  you." 

And  the  two  turned  haughtily  from  each  other. 

Ere  Torfrida  went  to  bed  that  night,  there  was  a 
violent  knocking.  Angry  as  she  was,  she  was  yet 
anxious  enough  to  hurry  out  of  her  chamber,  and 
open  the  door  herself. 

Martin  Lightfoot  stood  there  with  a  large  leathermail, 
which  he  flung  at  her  feet  somewhat  unceremoniously. 

"There  is  some  gear  of  yours,"  said  he,  as  it 
clanged  and  rattled  on  the  floor. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  man  ?  " 


i8o  HE  REWARD   THE  WAKE. 

"  Only  that  my  master  bid  me  say  that  he  cares  as 
little  for  his  own  life  as  you  do."  And  he  turned  away. 

She  caught  him  by  the  arm  : 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  What  is  in  this 
mail  ?  " 

"  You  should  know  best.  If  young  folks  cannot 
be  content  when  they  are  well  off,  they  will  go 
further  and  fare  worse,"  says  Martin  Lightfoot.  And 
he  slipped  from  her  grasp  and  fled  into  the  night. 

She  took  the  mail  to  her  room  and  opened  it.  It 
contained  the  magic  armour. 

All  her  anger  was  melted  away.  She  cried  ;  she 
blamed  herself.  He  would  be  killed  ;  his  blood  would 
be  on  her  head.  She  would  have  carried  it  back 
to  him  with  her  own  hands ;  she  would  have 
entreated  him  on  her  knees  to  take  it  back.  But 
how  face  the  courtiers  ?  and  how  find  him  ?  Very 
probably,  too,  he  was  by  that  time  hopelessly  drunk. 
And  at  that  thought  she  drew  herself  into  herself, 
tried  to  harden  her  heart  again,  and  went  to  bed, 
but  not  to  sleep.  Bitterly  she  cried  as  she  thought 
over  the  old  hag's  croon  : 

Quick  joy,  long  pain, 

You  will  take  your  gift  again. 

It  might  have  been  five  o'clock  the  next  morning 
when  the  clarion  rang  down  the  street.  She  sprang 
up  and  dressed  herself  quickly ;  but  never  more 
carefully  or  gaily.  She  heard  the  tramp  of  horse- 
hoofs.  He  was  moving  afield  early,  indeed.  Should 
she  go  to  the  window  to  bid  him  farewell?  Should 
she  hide  herself  in  just  anger? 

She  looked  out  stealthily  through  the  blind  of  the 
little  window  in  the  gable.  There  rode  down  the 
street  Robert  le  Prison  in  full  armour,  and  behind 
him,  knight  after  knight,  a  wall  of  shining  steel. 
But  by  his  side  rode  one  bare-headed,  his  long 
yellow  curls  floating  over  his  shoulders.  His  boots 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  181 

had  golden  spurs,  a  gilt  belt  held  up  his  sword ; 
but  his  only  dress  was  a  silk  shirt  and  silk  hose. 
He  laughed  and  sang,  and  made  his  horse  caracol, 
and  tossed  his  lance  in  the  air,  and  caught  it  by 
the  point,  like  Taillefer  at  Hastings,  as  he  passed 
under  the  window. 

She  threw  open  the  blind,  careless  of  all  ap- 
pearances. She  would  have  called  to  him :  but  the 
words  choked  her  ;  and  what  should  she  say  ? 

He  looked  up  boldly,  and  smiled. 

"Farewell,  fair  lady  mine.  Drunk  I  was  last 
night,  but  not  so  drunk  as  to  forget  a  promise." 

And  he  rode  on,  while  Torfrida  rushed  away  and 
broke  into  wild  weeping. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

HOW    HEREWARD    WON    MARE    SWALLOW. 

ON  a  bench  at  the  door  of  his  high-roofed  wooden 
house  sat  Dirk  Hammerhand,  the  richest  man  in 
Walcheren.  From  within  the  house  sounded  the 
pleasant  noise  of  slave-women,  grinding  and  chatting 
at  the  handquern  ;  from  without,  the  pleasant  noise 
of  geese  and  fowls  without  number.  And  as  he  sat 
and  drank  his  ale,  and  watched  the  herd  of  horses  in 
the  fen,  he  thought  himself  a  happy  man,  and  thanked 
his  Odin  and  Thor  that,  owing  to  his  princely  supplies 
of  horses  to  Countess  Gertrude,  Robert  the  Prison 
and  his  Christian  Franks  had  not  yet  harried  him 
to  the  bare  walls,  as  they  would  probably  do  ere 
all  was  over. 

As  he  looked  at  the  horses,  some  half  mile  off,  he 
saw  a  strange  stir  among  them.  They  began  whinny- 
ing and  pawing  round  a  four-footed  thing  in  the 
midst,  which  might  be  a  badger,  or  a  wolf — though 
both  were  very  uncommon  in  that  pleasant  isle  of 


i82  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

Walcheren;  but  which  plainly  had  no  business  there. 
Whereon  he  took  up  a  mighty  staff,  and  strode  over 
the  fen  to  see. 

He  found  neither  wolf  nor  badger :  but  to  his 
exceeding  surprise,  a  long  lean  man,  clothed  in 
ragged  horse-skins,  whinnying  and  neighing  exactly 
like  a  horse,  and  then  stooping  to  eat  grass  like  one. 
He  advanced  to  do  the  first  thing  which  came  into 
his  head,  namely  to  break  the  man's  back  with  his 
staff,  and  ask  him  afterwards  who  he  might  be. 
But  ere  he  could  strike,  the  man  or  horse  kicked  up 
with  its  hind  legs  in  his  face,  and  then  springing  on 
to  the  said  hind  legs  ran  away  with  extraordinary 
swiftness  some  fifty  yards;  after  which  it  went  down 
on  all  fours  and  began  grazing  again. 

"  Beest  thou  man  or  devil?  "  cried  Dirk,  somewhat 
frightened. 

The  thing  looked  up.    The  face  at  least  was  human. 

"  Art  thou  a  Christian  man?  "  asked  it  in  bad 
Frisian,  intermixed  with  snorts  and  neighs. 

"  What's  that  to  thee?  "  growled  Dirk;  and  began 
to  wish  a  little  that  he  was  one,  having  heard  that  the 
sign  of  the  cross  was  of  great  virtue  in  driving  away 
fiends. 

"  Thou  art  not  Christian.  Thou  believest  in  Thor 
and  Odin?  Then  there  is  hope." 

"Hope  of  what?"  Dirk  was  growing  more  and 
more  frightened. 

"  Of  her,  my  sister  !  Ah,  my  sister,  can  it  be  that 
I  shall  find  thee  at  last,  after  ten  thousand  miles,  and 
seven  years  of  woeful  wandering?  " 

"  I  have  no  man's  sister  here.  At  least,  my  wife's 
brother  was  killed " 

"  I  speak  not  of  a  sister  in  woman's  shape.  Mine, 
alas  ! — 0  woeful  prince,  O  more  woeful  princess — 
eats  the  herb  of  the  field  somewhere  in  the  shape  of 
a  mare,  as  ugly  as  she  was  once  beautiful,  but 
swifter  than  the  swallow  on  the  wing." 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  183 

"I've  none  such  here,"  quoth  Dirk,  thoroughly 
frightened,  and  glancing  uneasily  at  mare  Swallow. 

"You  have  not?  Alas,  wretched  me!  It  was 
prophesied  to  me  by  the  witch  that  I  should  find 
her  in  the  field  of  one  who  worshipped  the  old  gods  ; 
for  had  she  come  across  a  holy  priest,  she  had  been 
a  woman  again,  long  ago.  Whither  must  I  wander 
afresh  ! "  And  the  thing  began  weeping  bitterly,  and 
then  ate  more  grass. 

"'I — that  is — thou  poor  miserable  creature,"  said 
Dirk,  half  pitying,  half  wishing  to  turn  the  subject  ; 
"leave  off  making  a  beast  of  thyself  awhile,  and  tell 
me  who  thou  art." 

"  I  have  made  no  beast  of  myself,  most  noble  earl 
of  the  Frisians,  for  so  you  doubtless  are.  I  was 
made  a  beast  of — a  horse  of,  by  an  enchanter  of  a 
certain  land,  and  my  sister  a  mare." 

"Thou  dost  not  say  so!"  quoth  Dirk,  who  con- 
sidered such  an  event  quite  possible. 

"  I  was  a  prince  of  the  county  of  Alboronia,  which 
lies  between  Cathay  and  the  Mountains  of  the  Moon, 
as  fair  once  as  I  am  foul  now,  and  only  less  fair  than 
my  lost  sister ;  and  by  the  enchantments  of  a  cruel 
magician  we  became  what  we  are." 

lt  But  thou  art  not  a  horse,  at  all  events  ?  " 

"Am  I  not?  Thou  knowest,  then,  more  of  me 
than  I  do  of  myself,"  and  it  ate  more  grass.  "  But 
hear  the  rest  of  my  story.  My  hapless  sister  was 
sold  away  with  me  to  a  merchant :  but  I,  breaking 
loose  from  him,  fled  until  I  bathed  in  a  magic  foun- 
tain. At  once  I  recovered  my  man's  shape,  and  was 
rejoicing  therein,  when  out  of  the  fountain  rose  a 
fairy  more  beautiful  than  an  elf,  and  smiled  upon 
me  with  love. 

"  She  asked  me  my  story,  and  I  told  it.  And  when 
it  was  told — '  Wretch  ! '  she  cried,  'and  coward,  who 
hast  deserted  thy  sister  in  her  need.  I  would  have 
loved  thee,  and  made  thee  immortal  as  mvself:  but 


184  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE 

now  thou  shalt  wander  ugly  and  eating  grass,  clothed 
in  the  horse-hide  which  has  just  dropped  from  thy 
limbs,  till  thou  shalt  find  thy  sister,  and  bring  her 
to  bathe,  like  thee,  in  this  magic  well.'" 

"All  good  spirits  help  us  !  And  you  are  really 
a  prince  ?  " 

"As  surely,"  cried  the  thing  with  a  voice  of  sudden 
rapture,  "as  that  mare  is  my  sister;"  and  he  rushed 
at  mare  Swallow  "  I  see,  I  see,  my  mother's  eyes, 
my  father's  nose " 

"  He  must  have  been  a  chuckle-headed  king  that, 
then,"  grinned  Dirk  to  himself.  "The  mare's  nose 
is  as  big  as  a  buck-basket.  But  how  can  she  be  a 
princess,  man — prince  I  mean  ?  she  has  a  foal  running 
by  her  here." 

"A  foal?"  said  the  thing  solemnly.  "Let  me 
behold  it.  Alas,  alas,  my  sister  !  Thy  tyrant's  threat 
has  come  true,  that  thou  shouldst  be  his  bride  whether 
thou  wouldst  or  not.  I  see,  I  see  in  the  features  of 
thy  son  his  hated  lineaments." 

"Why  he  must  be  as  like  a  horse,  then,  as  your 
father.  But  this  will  not  do,  Master  Horse-man ; 
I  know  that  foal's  pedigree  better  than  I  do  my 
own. " 

"  Man,  man,  simple  though  honest ! — Hast  thou 
never  heard  of  the  skill  of  the  enchanters  of  the  East  ? 
How  they  transform  their  victims  at  night  back  again 
into  human  shape,  and  by  day  into  the  shape  of 
beasts  again  ?  " 

"Yes— well— I  know  that " 

"  And  do  you  not  see  how  you  are  deluded  ?  Every 
night,  doubt  not,  that  mare  and  foal  take  their  human 
shape  again ;  and  every  night,  perhaps,  that  foul 
enchanter  visits  in  your  fen,  perhaps  in  your  very 
stable,  his  wretched  bride  restored  (alas,  only  for  an 
hour  !)  into  her  human  shape." 

"  An  enchanter  in  my  stable  ?  That  is  an  ugly 
£uest  But  no.  I've  been  into  the  stables  fifty  times, 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  185 

to  see  if  that  mare  was  safe.  Mare  was  mare,  and 
colt  was  colt,  Mr.  Prince,  if  I  have  eyes  to  see." 

"And  what  are  eyes  against  enchantments?  The 
moment  you  opened  the  door,  the  spell  was  cast  over 
them  again.  You  ought  to  thank  your  stars  that  no 
worse  has  happened  yet ;  that  the  enchanter,  in 
fleeing,  has  not  wrung  your  neck  as  he  went  out,  or 
cast  a  spell  on  you,  which  will  fire  your  barns,  lame 
your  geese,  give  your  fowls  the  pip,  your  horses 
the  glanders,  your  cattle  the  murrain,  your  children 
St.  Vitus'  dance,  your  wife  the  creeping  palsy,  and 
yourself  the  chalk-stones  in  all  your  fingers." 

"All  saints  have  mercy  on  me  !  If  the  half  of  this 
be  true,  I  will  turn  Christian.  I  will  send  for  a  priest, 
and  be  baptized  to-morrow  !  " 

"Oh,  my  sister,  my  sister!  Dost  thou  not  know 
me  ?  Dost  thou  answer  my  caresses  with  kicks  ?  Or 
is  thy  heart,  as  well  as  thy  body,  so  enchained  by  that 
cruel  necromancer,  that  thou  preferrest  to  be  his,  and 
scornest  thine  own  salvation,  leaving  me  to  eat  grass 
till  I  die?" 

"  I  say,  Prince — I  say — what  would  you  have  a 
man  to  do  ?  I  bought  the  mare  honestly,  and  I  have 
kept  her  well.  She  can't  say  aught  against  me  on 
that  score.  And  whether  she  be  princess  or  not,  I'm 
loth  to  part  with  her." 

"  Keep  her  then,  and  keep  with  her  the  curse  of  all 
the  saints  and  angels.  Look  down,  ye  holy  saints  " 
(and  the  thing  poured  out  a  long  string  of  saints' 
names),  "and  avenge  this  catholic  princess,  kept 
in  vile  durance  by  an  unbaptized  heathen !  May 
his " 

"Don't,  don't!"  roared  Dirk.  "And  don't  look 
at  me  like  that"  (for  he  feared  the  evil  eye),  "or  I'll 
brain  you  with  my  staff !  " 

"  Fool !  If  I  have  lost  a  horse's  figure,  I  have  not 
lost  his  swiftness.  Ere  thou  couldst  strike,  I  should 
have  run  a  mile  and  back,  to  curse  thee  afresh." 


i86  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

And  the  thing  ran  round  him,  and  fell  on  all  fours 
again,  and  ate  grass. 

"  Mercy,  mercy !  And  that  is  more  than  I  ever 
asked  yet  of  man.  But  it  is  hard,"  growled  he,  "  that 
a  man  should  lose  his  money,  because  a  rogue  sells 
him  a  princess  in  disguise." 

"Then  sell  her  again  ;  sell  her,  as  thou  valuest  thy 
life,  to  the  first  Christian  man  thou  meetest.  And  yet 
no.  What  matters?  Ere  a  month  be  over,  the 
seven  years'  enchantment  will  have  passed  ;  and  she 
will  return  to  her  own  shape,  with  her  son,  and 
vanish  from  thy  farm,  leaving  thee  to  vain  repent- 
ance ;  whereby  thou  wilt  both  lose  thy  money,  and 
get  her  curse.  Farewell,  and  my  malison  abide  with 
thee  ! " 

And  the  thing,  without  another  word,  ran  right 
away,  neighing  as  it  went,  leaving  Dirk  in  a  state  of 
abject  terror. 

He  went  home.  He  cursed  the  mare,  he  cursed 
the  man  who  sold  her,  he  cursed  the  day  he  saw  her, 
he  cursed  the  day  he  was  born.  He  told  his  story 
with  exaggerations  and  confusions  in  plenty  to  all  in 
the  house  ;  and  terror  fell  on  them  likewise.  No  one, 
that  evening,  dare  go  down  into  the  fen  to  drive  the 
horses  up ;  while  Dirk  got  very  drunk,  went  to  bed, 
and  trembled  there  all  night  (as  did  the  rest  of  the 
household),  expecting  the  enchanter  to  enter  on  a 
flaming  fire-drake,  at  every  howl  of  the  wind. 

The  next  morning,  as  Dirk  was  going  about  his 
business  with  a  doleful  face,  casting  stealthy  glances 
at  the  fen,  to  see  if  the  mysterious  mare  was  still 
there,  and  a  chance  of  his  money  still  left,  a  man  rode 
up  to  the  door. 

He  was  poorly  clothed,  with  a  long  rusty  sword  by 
his  side.  A  broad  felt  hat,  long  boots,  and  a  haver- 
sack behind  his  saddle,  showed  him  to  be  a  traveller, 
seemingly  a  horse-dealer  ;  for  there  followed  him,  tied 
head  and  tail,  a  brace  of  sorry  nags. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  187 

"  Heaven  save  all  here,"  quoth  he,  making  the 
sign  of  the  cross.  "  Can  any  good  Christian  give  me 
a  drink  of  milk?  " 

"  Ale,  if  thou  wilt,"  said  Dirk.  "  But  what  art 
thou,  and  whence?  " 

On  any  other  day,  he  would  have  tried  to  coax  his 
guest  into  trying  a  buffet  with  him  for  his  horse  and 
clothes :  but  this  morning  his  heart  was  heavy  with 
the  thought  of  the  enchanted  mare,  and  he  welcomed 
the  chance  of  selling  her  to  the  stranger. 

"  We  are  not  very  fond  of  strangers  about 
here,  since  these  Flemings  have  been  harrying 
our  borders.  If  thou  art  a  spy,  it  will  be  worse 
for  thee." 

"  I  am  neither  spy  nor  Fleming  :  but  a  poor  servant 
of  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Utrecht's,  buying  a  garron  or 
two  for  his  lordship's  priests.  As  for  these  Flemings, 
may  St.  John  Baptist  save  from  them  both  me  and 
you.  Do  you  know  of  any  man  who  has  horses  to 
sell  hereabouts?  " 

"  There  are  horses  in  the  fen  yonder,"  quoth  Dirk, 
who  knew  that  churchmen  were  likely  to  give  a 
liberal  price,  and  pay  in  good  silver. 

"  I  saw  them  as  I  rode  up.  And  a  fine  lot  they 
are  :  but  of  too  good  a  stamp  for  my  short  purse, 
or  for  my  holy  master's  riding, — a  fat  priest  likes  a 
quiet  nag,  my  master." 

"  Humph.  Well,  if  quietness  is  what  you  need, 
there  is  a  mare  down  there,  that  a  child  might  ride 

•with  a  thread  of  wool.  But  as  for  price And 

she  has  a  colt,  too,  running  by  her." 

"Ah?"  quoth  the  horseman.  "Well,  your 
Walcheren  folk  make  good  milk,  that's  certain. 
A  colt  by  her?  That's  awkward.  My  lord  does 
not  like  young  horses;  and  it  would  be  troublesome, 
too,  to  take  the  thing  along  with  me." 

The  less  anxious  the  dealer  seemed  to  buy,  the 
more  anxious  grew  Dirk  to  sell  :  but  he  concealed 


1 88  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

his  anxiety,  and  let  the  stranger  turn  away,  thanking 
him  for  his  drink. 

"I  say!  "he  called  after  him.  "You  might  look 
at  her,  as  you  ride  past  the  herd." 

The  stranger  assented  ;  and  they  went  down  into 
the  fen,  and  looked  over  the  precious  mare,  whose 
feats  were  afterwards  sung  by  many  an  English  fire- 
side, or  in  the  forest  beneath  the  hollins  green,  by 
such  as  Robin  Hood  and  his  merry  men.  The  ugliest, 
as  well  as  the  swiftest,  of  mares,  she  was,  say  the 
old  chroniclers  ;  and  it  was  not  till  the  stranger  had 
looked  twice  at  her,  that  he  forgot  her  great  chuckle- 
head,  greyhound-flanks,  and  drooping  hind-quarters, 
and  began  to  see  the  great  length  of  those  same 
quarters,  the  thighs  let  down  into  the  hocks,  the 
compact  lion,  the  extraordinary  girth  through  the 
saddle,  the  sloping  shoulder,  the  long  arms,  the 
flat  knees,  the  large  well-set  hoofs,  and  all  the  other 
points  which  showed  her  strength  and  speed,  and 
justified  her  fame. 

"  She  might  carry  a  big  man  like  you  through 
tbe  mud,"  said  he  carelessly:  "but  as  for  pace, 
one  cannot  expect  that  with  such  a  chuckle-head. 
And  if  one  rode  her  through  a  town,  the  boys 
would  call  after  one,  '  All  head  and  no  tail  '- 
Why,  I  can't  see  her  tail  for  her  croup,  it  is  so  ill 
set  on." 

"Ill  set  on,  or  none,"  said  Dirk  testily,  "don't 
go  to  speak  against  her  pace,  till  you  have  seen  it 
Here,  lass  ! " 

Dirk  was  in  his  heart  rather  afraid  of  the  princess  : 
but  he  was  comforted  when  she  came  up  to  him  like 
a  dog. 

"  She's  as  sensible  as  a  woman,"  said  he  ;  and  then 
grumbled  to  himself,  '•' 'may  be  she  knows  I  meaft  lc 
part  with  her." 

"  Lend  me  your  saddle,"  said  he  to  the  stranger. 

The  stranger  did  so;  a,  d  Dirk,  mounting,  galloped 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  189 

her  in  a  ring.  There  was  no  doubt  of  her  powers 
as  soon  as  she  began  to  move. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  remember  this  against  me, 
madam,"  said  Dirk,  as  soon  as  he  got  out  of  the 
stranger's  hearing.  "  I  can't  do  less  than  sell  you 
to  a  Christian.  And  certainly  I  have  been  as  good 
a  master  to  you  as  if  I'd  known  who  you  were  ;  but 
if  you  wish  to  stay  with  me,  you've  only  to  kick  me 
off,  and  say  so  ;  and  I'm  yours  to  command." 

"Well,  she  can  gallop  a  bit,"  said  the  stranger, 
as  Dirk  pulled  her  up  and  dismounted:  "but  an 
ugly  brute  she  is,  nevertheless,  and  such  an  one 
as  I  should  not  care  to  ride,  for  I  am  a  gay  man 
among  the  ladies.  However,  what  is  your  price  ?  " 

Dirk  named  twice  as  much  as  he  would  have  taken. 

"  Half  that,  you  mean."  And  the  usual  haggle 
began. 

"Tell  thee  what,"  said  Dirk  at  last.  "  I  am  a 
man  who  has  his  fancies ;  and  this  shall  be  her 
price  ;  half  thy  bid,  and  a  box  on  the  ear." 

The  demon  of  covetousness  had  entered  Dirk's 
heart.  What  if  he  got  the  money ;  brained,  or  at 
least  disabled  the  stranger  ;  and  so  had  a  chance 
of  selling  the  mare  a  second  time  to  some  fresh 
comer  ? 

"Thou  art  a  strange  fellow,"  quoth  the  horse- 
dealer.  "  But  so  be  it." 

Dirk  chuckled.  "He  does  not  know,"  thought 
he,  "that  he  has  to  do  with  Dirk  Hammerhand," 
and  he  clenched  his  fist  in  anticipation  of  his  rough 
joke. 

"There,"  quoth  the  stranger,  counting  out  the 
money  carefully,  "is  thy  coin.  And  there — is  thy 
box  on  the  ear." 

And  with  a  blow  which  rattled  over  the  fen,  he 
felled  Dirk  Hammerhand  to  the  ground. 

He  lay  senseless  for  a  moment,  and  then  lookec1 
wildly  round. 


igo  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"Villain!"  groaned  he.  "It  was  I  who  was  to 
give  the  buffet,  not  thou  !  " 

"  Art  mad  ?  "  asked  the  stranger,  as  he  coolly  picked 
up  the  coins,  which  Dirk  had  scattered  in  his  fall.  "  It 
is  the  seller's  business  to  take,  and  the  buyer's  to  give." 

And  while  Dirk  roared  in  vain  for  help,  he  leaped 
on  Swallow,  and  rode  off  shouting  : 

"Aha!  Dirk  Hammerhand  !  So  you  thought 
to  knock  a  hole  in  my  skull,  as  you  have  done 
to  many  a  better  man  than  yourself?  He  must 
be  a  luckier  man  than  you,  who  catches  The  Wake 
asleep.  I  shall  give  your  love  to  the  Enchanted 
Prince,  my  faithful  serving-  man,  whom  they  call 
Martin  Lightfoot." 

Dirk  cursed  the  day  he  was  born.  Instead  of  the 
mare  and  colt,  he  had  got  the  two  wretched  garrons 
which  the  stranger  had  left,  and  a  face  which  made 
him  so  tender  of  his  own  teeth,  that  he  never  again 
offered  to  try  a  buffet  with  a  stranger. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

HOW   HEREWARD    RODE    INTO    BRUGES    LIKE    A 
BEGGARMAN. 

THE  spring  and  summer  had  passed,  and  the  autumn 
was  almost  over,  when  great  news  came  to  the  Court 
of  Bruges,  where  Torfrida  was  now  a  bower-maiden. 

The  Zeelanders  had  been  beaten  till  they  sub- 
mitted ;  at  least  for  the  present.  There  was  peace, 
at  least  for  the  present,  through  all  the  isles  of 
Scheldt ;  and  more  than  all,  the  lovely  countess 
Gertrude  had  resolved  to  reward  her  champion  by 
giving  him  her  hand,  and  the  guardianship  of  her 
lands  and  her  infant  son. 

And  Hereward  ? 

From  him,  or  of  him,  there  was  no  word.     That  he 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  191 

was  alive  and  fighting  was  all  the  messenger  could 
say. 

Then  Robert  came  back  to  Bruges,  with  a  gallant 
retinue,  leading  home  his  bride.  And  there  met  him 
his  father  and  mother,  and  his  brother  of  Mons,  and 
Richilda  the  beautiful  and  terrible  sorceress — who  had 
not  yet  stained  her  soul  with  those  crimes  which  she 
expiated  by  fearful  penances  in  after  years,  when 
young  Arnoul,  the  son  for  whom  she  had  sold  her 
soul,  lay  dead  upon  the  battlefield  which  was  to  have 
made  him  a  mighty  prince.  And  Torfrida  went  out 
with  the  nobles  to  meet  Count  Robert,  and  looked  for 
Hereward,  till  her  eyes  were  ready  to  fall  out  of  her 
head.  But  Hereward  was  not  with  them. 

"  He  must  be  left  behind,  commanding  the  army," 
thought  she.  "  But  he  might  have  sent  one  word  ! " 

There  was  a  great  feast  that  day  of  course ; 
and  Torfrida  sat  thereat :  but  she  could  not  eat. 
Nevertheless  she  was  too  proud  to  let  the  knights 
know  what  was  in  her  heart ;  so  she  chatted  and 
laughed  as  gaily  as  the  rest,  watching  always  for 
any  word  of  Hereward.  But  none  mentioned  his 
name. 

The  feast  was  long  ;  the  ladies  did  not  rise  till  nigh 
bedtime  ;  and  then  the  men  drank  on. 

They  went  up  to  the  Queen-Countess's  chamber ; 
where  a  solemn  undressing  of  that  royal  lady  usually 
took  place. 

The  etiquette  was  this.  The  Queen-Countess  sat 
in  her  chair  of  state  in  the  midst,  till  her  shoes  were 
taken  off,  and  her  hair  dressed  for  the  night.  Right 
and  left  of  her,  according  to  their  degrees,  sat  the 
other  great  ladies  ;  and  behind  each  of  them,  where 
they  could  find  places,  the  maidens. 

It  was  Torfrida's  turn  to  take  off  the  royal  shoes  ; 
and  she  advanced  into  the  middle  of  the  semicircle, 
slippers  in  hand. 

14  Stop  there  !  "  said  the  Countess-Queen. 


192  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

Whereat  Torfrida  stopped,  very  much  frightened. 

"Countesses  and  ladies,"  said  the  mistress,  "there 
are,  in  Provence  and  the  South,  what  I  wish  there 
were  here  in  Flanders — Courts  of  Love,  at  which 
all  offenders  against  the  sacred  laws  of  Venus  and 
Cupid  are  tried  by  an  assembly  of  their  peers,  and 
punished  according  to  their  deserts." 

Torfrida  turned  scarlet. 

"  I  know  not  why  we,  countesses  and  ladies, 
should  have  less  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  love  than 
those  gayer  dames  of  the  South,  whose  blood  runs — 
to  judge  by  her  dark  hair — in  the  veins  of  yon  fair 
maid." 

There  was  a  silence.  Torfrida  was  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  the  room  ;  more  beautiful  than 
even  Richilda  the  terrible  ;  and  therefore  there  were 
few  but  were  glad  to  see  her — as  it  seemed — in 
trouble. 

Torfrida's  mother  began  whimpering,  and  praying 
to  six  or  seven  saints  at  once.  But  nobody  marked 
her — possibly  not  even  the  saints  ;  being  preoccupied 
with  Torfrida. 

"  I  hear,  fair  maid — for  that  you  are  that  I  will 
do  you  the  justice  to  confess — that  you  are  old 
enough  to  be  married  this  four  years  since." 

Torfrida  stood  like  a  stone,  frightened  out  of  her 
wits,  plentiful  as  they  were. 

"  Why  are  you  not  married  ?  " 

There  was,  of  course,  no  answer. 

"  I  hear  that  knights  have  fought  for  you  ;  lost 
their  '.{ives  for  you. " 

"I  did  not  bid  them,"  gasped  Torfrida,  longing 
that  the  floor  would  open  and  swallow  up  the  Queen- 
Countess  and  all  her  kin  and  followers,  as  it  did  for 
the  enemies  of  the  blessed  Saint  Dunstan,  while 
he  was  arguing  with  them  in  an  upper  room  at 
Calne. 

"And  that  the  knig-ht  of  St.  Valeri.  to  whom  you 


H.w.  Page  240. 

"  Hereward  led  tha  garron  on  by  the  bridle." 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  193 

gave  your  favour,  now  lies  languishing  ot  wounds 
got  in  your  cause." 

"I  —  I  did  not  bid  him  fight,"  gasped  Torfrida, 
now  wishing  that  the  floor  would  open  and  swallow 
up  herself. 

"  And  that  he  who  overthrew  the  knight  of  St. 
Valeri  --to  whom  you  gave  that  favour,  and 
more " 

"I  gave  him  nothing  a  maiden  might  not  give," 
cried  Torfrida,  so  fiercely  that  the  Queen-Countess 
recoiled  somewhat. 

"I  never  said  that  you  did,  girl.  Your  love  you 
gave  him.  Can  you  deny  that  ?  " 

Torfrida  laughed  bitterly  :  her  Southern  blood  was 
rising. 

"  I  put  my  love  out  to  nurse,  instead  of  weaning 
it,  as  many  a  maiden  has  done  before  me,  and  thought 
no  harm.  When  my  love  cried  for  hunger  and  cold, 
1  took  it  back  again  to  my  own  bosom  :  and  whether 
it  has  lived  or  died  there,  is  no  one's  matter  but 
my  own." 

"  Hunger  and  cold  ?  I  hear  that  him  to  whom  you 
gave  your  love,  you  drove  out  to  the  cold,  bidding 
him  go  fight  in  his  bare  shirt,  if  he  wished  to  win 
your  love." 

"  I  did  not.  He  angered  me — He "  and  Torfrida 

found  herself  in  the  act  of  accusing  Hereward. 

She  stopped  instantly. 

"What  more,  your  Highness?  If  this  be  true, 
what  more  may  not  be  true  of  such  a  one  as  I  ?  I 
submit  myself  to  your  royal  grace." 

"  She  has  confessed.  What  punishment,  ladies, 
does  she  deserve  ?  Or,  rather,  what  punishment 
would  her  cousins  of  Provence  inflict,  did  we  send 
her  southward,  to  be  judged  by  their  courts  of  love?  " 

One  lady  said  one  thing,  one  another.  Some  spoke 
cruelly ;  some  worse  than  cruelly ;  for  they  were 
O  coarse  ages,  the  ages  of  faith  ;  and  ladies  said  things 
H.W.  G 


194  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

then  in    open  company  which   gentlemen    would    be 
ashamed  to  say  in  private  now. 

"Marry  her  to  a  fool,"  said  Richilda,  at  last, 
bitterly. 

"  That  is  too  common  a  misfortune,"  answered  the 
lady  of  France.  "  If  we  did  no  more  to  her,  she 
might  grow  as  proud  as  her  betters." 

Adela  knew  that  her  daughter-in-law  considered 
her  husband  a  fool  ;  and  was  somewhat  of  the  same 
opinion,  though  she  hated  Richilda. 

"  No,"  said  she  ;  "  we  will  do  more.  We  will 
marry  her  to  the  first  man  who  enters  the  castle." 

Torfrida  looked  at  her  mistress  to  see  if  she  were 
mad.  But  the  Countess-Queen  was  serene  and  sane. 
Then  Torfrida's  Southern  heat  and  Northern  courage 
burst  forth. 

"You?    marry?    me?    to? "  said    she   slowly, 

with   eyes   so    fierce    and   lips    so    livid,    that    Adela 
herself  quailed. 

There  was  a  noise  of  shouting  and  laughing  in  the 
court  below,  which  made  all  turn  and  listen. 

The  next  moment  a  serving  man  came  in,  puzzled, 
and  inclined  to  laugh. 

"  May  it  please  your  Highness,  here  is  the  strangest 
adventure.  There  is  ridden  into  the  castle-yard  a 
beggarman  with  scarce  a  shirt  to  his  back,  on  a 
great  ugly  mare  with  a  foal  running  by  her ;  and 
a  fool  behind  him  carrying  lance  and  shield.  And 
he  says  that  he  is  come  to  fight  any  knight  of  the 
Court,  ragged  as  he  stands,  for  the  fairest  lady  in 
the  Court,  be  she  who  she  may,  if  she  have  not  a 
wedded  husband  already." 

"And  what  says  my  Lord  Marquis?" 

"That  it  is  a  fair  challenge  and  a  good  adventure ; 
and  that  fight  he  shall,  if  any  man  will  answer  his 
defiance." 

"And  I  say,  tell  my  Lord  Marquis  that  fight  he 
shall  not :  for  he  shall  have  the  fairest  maiden  in 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  195 

this  Court  for  the  trouble  of  carrying1  her  away ; 
and  that  I,  Adela  of  France,  will  give  her  to  him. 
So  let  that  beggar  dismount,  and  be  brought  up 
hither  to  me." 

There  was  silence  again.  Torfrida  Jttoked  round 
her  once  more  to  see  whether  or  not  she  was 
dreaming,  and  whether  there  was  one  human  being 
to  whom  she  could  appeal.  Her  mother  sat  praying 
and  weeping  in  a  corner.  Torfrida  looked  at  her 
with  one  glance  of  scorn,  which  she  confessed  and 
repented,  with  bitter  tears,  many  a  year  after,  in 
a  foreign  land  ;  and  then  turned  to  bay  with  the 
spirit  of  her  old  Paladin  ancestor,  who  choked  the 
Emir  at  Montmajour. 

Married  to  a  beggar !  It  was  a  strange  accident ; 
and  an  ugly  one  ;  and  a  great  cruelty  and  wrong. 
But  it  was  not  impossible,  hardly  improbable,  in 
days  when  the  caprice  of  the  strong  created  accidents, 
and  when  cruelty  and  wrong  went  for  nothing,  even 
with  very  kindly  honest  folk.  So  Torfrida  faced 
the  danger,  as  she  would  have  faced  that  of  a 
kicking  horse  or  a  flooded  ford  ;  and  like  the  nut- 
brown  bride, 

She  pulled  out  a  little  penknife, 
That  was  both  keen  and  sharp, 

and  considered  that  the  beggarman  could  wear  no 
armour,  and  that  she  wore  none  either.  For  if 
she  succeeded  in  slaying  that  beggarman,  she 
might  need  to  slay  herself  after,  to  avoid  being 
—  according  to  the  fashion  of  those  days  —  burnt 
alive. 

So  when  the  arras  was  drawn  back,  and  tha! 
beggarman  came  into  the  room,  instead  of  shriek- 
ing, fainting,  hiding,  or  turning,  she  made  three 
steps  straight  toward  him,  looking  him  in  the 
face  like  a  wild  cat  at  bay.  Then  she  threw  up 
her  arms  ;  and  fell  upon  his  neck. 


196  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

It  was  Hereward  himself.  Filthy,  ragged :  but 
Hereward. 

His  shirt  was  brown  with  gore,  and  torn  with 
wounds  :  and  through  its  rents  showed  more  than 
one  hardly  healed  scar.  His  hair  and  beard  was 
all  in  elf-locks  ;  and  one  heavy  cut  across  the  head 
had  shorn  not  only  hair,  but  brain-pan,  very  close. 

But  Hereward  it  was ;  and  regardless  of  all 
beholders,  she  lay  upon  his  neck,  and  never  stirred 
nor  spoke. 

"  I  call  you  to  witness,  ladies,"  cried  the  Queen- 
Countess,  "that  I  am  guiltless.  She  has  given 
herself  to  this  beggarman  of  her  own  free  will. 
What  say  you  ? "  And  she  turned  to  Torfrida's 
mother. 

Torfrida's  mother  only  prayed  and  whimpered. 

"Countesses  and  Ladies,"  said  the  Queen- 
Countess,  "there  will  be  two  weddings  to- 
morrow. The  first  will  be  that  of  my  son  Robert 
and  my  pretty  Lady  Gertrude  here.  The  second 
will  be  that  of  my  pretty  Torfrida  and  Hereward." 

"And  the  second  bride,"  said  the  Countess 
Gertrude,  rising  and  taking  Torfrida  in  her  arms, 
"will  be  ten  times  prettier  than  the  first.  There, 
sir,  I  have  done  all  you  asked  of  me.  Now  go 
and  wash  yourself." 

"Hereward,"  said  Torfrida,  a  week  after,  "and 
did  you  really  never  change  your  shirt  all  that  time?" 

'  Never.     I  kept  my  promise." 

'  But  it  must  have  been  very  nasty." 

'  Well,  I  bathed  now  and  then." 

'  But  it  must  have  been  very  cold." 

'  I  am  warm  enough  now." 

'  But  did  you  never  comb  your  hair,  neither?" 

'  Well  I  won't  say  that.  Travellers  find  strange 
bed-fellows.  But  I  had  half  a  mind  never  to  do  it  at 
all,  just  to  spite  you." 


HEREWARD  THE    WAKE.  197 

"  And  what  matter  would  it  have  been  to  me  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  none.  It  is  only  a  Danish  fashion  we  have 
of  keeping'  clean." 

"Clean?  You  were  dirty  enough  when  you  came 
home.  How  silly  you  were  !  If  you  had  sent  me 
but  one  word  !  " 

"You  would  have  fancied  me  beaten,  and  scolded 
me  all  over  again.  I  know  your  ways  now, 
Torfrida." 


CHAPTER    XV. 

HOW   EARL  TOSTI   GODWINSSON   CAME   TO   ST.    OMER. 

THE  winter  passed  in  sweet  madness  ;  and  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life,  Torfrida  regretted  the  lengthening 
of  the  days,  and  the  flowering  of  the  primroses,  and 
the  return  of  the  now  needless  wryneck  ;  for  they 
warned  her  that  Hereward  must  forth  to  the  wars  in 
Scaldmariland,  which  had  broken  out  again,  as  was 
to  be  expected,  as  soon  as  Count  Robert  and  his 
bride  had  turned  their  backs. 

And  Hereward,  likewise,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  was  loth  to  go  to  war.  He  was,  doubtless,  rich 
enough  in  this  world's  goods.  Torfrida  herself  was 
rich,  and  seems  to  have  had  the  disposal  of  her  own 
property  ;  for  her  mother  is  not  mentioned  in  con- 
nection therewith.  Hereward  seems  to  have  dwelt 
in  her  house  at  St.  Omer  as  long  as  he  remained  in 
Flanders.  He  had  probably  amassed  some  treasure 
of  his  own  by  the  simple,  but  then  most  aristocratic, 
method  of  plunder.  He  had,  too,  probably,  grants  of 
land  in  Holland  from  the  Prison,  the  rents  whereof 
were  not  paid  as  regularly  as  might  be.  Moreover,  as 
"  Magister  Militum"  "Master  of  the  Knights,"  he 
had,  it  is  likely,  pay  as  well  as  honour.  And  he 
approved  himself  worthy  of  his  good  fortune.  He 


198  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

kept  forty  gallant  housecarles  in  his  hall  all  the 
winter,  and  Torfrida  and  her  lasses  made  and  mended 
their  clothes.  He  gave  large  gifts  to  the  Abbey  of 
St.  Bertin;  and  had  masses  sung  for  the  souls  of  all 
whom  he  had  slain,  according  to  a  rough  list  which 
he  furnished, — bidding  the  monks  not  to  be  chary  of 
two  or  three  masses  extra  at  times,  as  his  memory 
was  short,  and  he  might  have  sent  more  souls  to 
purgatoiy  than  he  had  recollected.  He  gave  great 
alms  at  his  door  to  all  the  poor.  He  befriended, 
especially,  all  shipwrecked  and  needy  mariners,  feed- 
ing and  clothing  them,  and  begging  their  freedom 
as  a  gift  from  Baldwin.  He  feasted  the  knights  of 
the  neighbourhood,  who  since  his  Baresark  campaign, 
had  all  vowed  him  the  most  gallant  of  warriors,  and 
since  his  accession  of  wealth,  the  most  courteous  of 
gentlemen;  and  all  went  merrily,  as  it  is  written, 
"  As  long  as  thou  doest  well  unto  thyself,  men  will 
speak  well  of  thee." 

So  he  would  have  fain  stayed  at  home  at  St. 
Omer :  but  he  was  Robert's  man,  and  his  good  friend 
likewise;  and  to  the  wars  he  must  go  forth  once 
more;  and  for  eight  or  nine  weary  months  Torfrida 
was  alone :  but  very  happy,  for  a  certain  reason  of 
her  own. 

At  last  the  short  November  days  came  round;  and 
a  joyful  woman  was  fair  Torfrida,  when  Martin 
Lightfoot  ran  into  the  hall,  and  throwing  himself 
down  on  the  rushes  like  a  dog,  announced  that 
Hereward  and  his  men  would  be  home  before  noon, 
and  then  fell  fast  asleep. 

There  was  bustling  to  and  fro  of  her  and  her 
maids;  decking  of  the  hall  in  the  best  hangings; 
strewing  of  fresh  rushes,  to  the  dislodgment  of 
Martin;  setting  out  of  boards  and  trestles,  and 
stoops  and  mugs  thereon;  cooking  of  victuals, 
broaching  of  casks;  and,  above  all,  for  Hereward's 
self,  heating  of  much  water,  and  setting  out.  in  the 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  799 

inner  chamber,  of  the  great  bath-tub  and  bath-sheet, 
which  was  the  special  delight  of  a  hero  fresh  from 
war. 

And  by  midday  the  streets  of  St.  Omer  rang  with 
clank,  and  tramp,  and  trumpet-blare,  and  in  marched 
Hereward  and  all  his  men,  and  swung-  round  through 
the  gateway  into  the  court,  where  Torfrida  stood  to 
welcome  them,  as  fair  as  day,  a  silver  stirrup-cup  in 
her  hand.  And  while  the  men  were  taking  off  their 
harness  and  dressing  their  horses,  she  and  Hereward 
went  in  together,  and  either  took  such  joy  of  the 
other,  that  a  year's  parting  was  forgot  in  a  minute's 
meeting. 

"  Now  !  "  cried  she,  in  a  tone  half  of  triumph,  half 
of  tenderness  ;  "  look  there  !  " 

"A  cradle?     And  a  baby  ?" 

"  Your  baby." 

"  Is  it  a  boy  ?  "  asked  Hereward,  who  saw  in  his 
mind's  eye  a  thing  which  would  grow  and  broaden 
at  his  knee  year  by  year,  and  learn  from  him  to  ride, 
to  shoot,  to  fight.  "  Happy  for  him  if  he  does  not 
learn  worse  from  me,"  thought  Hereward,  with  a 
sudden  movement  of  humility  and  contrition,  which 
was  surely  marked  in  heaven  ;  for  Toi'frida  marked 
it  on  earth. 

But  she  mistook  its  meaning. 

"  Do  not  be  vexed.     It  is  a  girl." 

"  Never  mind."  As  if  it  was  a  calamity  over 
which  he  was  bound  to  comfort  the  mother. 
"  If  she  is  half  as  beautiful  as  you  look  at  this 
moment,  what  splintering  of  lances  there  will  be 
about  her !  How  jolly,  to  see  the  lads  hewing  at 
each  other,  while  our  daughter  sits  in  the  pavilion, 
as  Queen  of  Love  !  " 

Torfrida  laughed.  "  You  think  of  nothing  but 
fighting,  bear  of  the  North  Seas." 

"Every  one  to  his  trade.  Well,  yes,  I  am  glad 
that  it  is  a  girl." 


200  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"  I  thought  you  seemed  vexed.  Why  did  you 
cross  yourself?  " 

"Because  I  thought  to  myself,  how  unfit  I  was  to 
Jring  up  a  boy  to  be  such  a  knight  as — as  you  would 
have  him  ; — how  likely  I  was,  ere  all  was  over,  to 
make  him  as  great  a  ruffian  as  myself." 

"  Here  ward  !  Hereward  !  "  and  she  threw  her  arms 
round  his  neck  for  the  tenth  time.  "Blessed  be  you 
for  those  words  !  Those  are  the  fears  which  never 
come  true,  for  they  bring  down  from  heaven  the  grace 
of  God,  to  guard  the  humble  and  contrite  heart  from 
that  which  it  fears." 

"  Ah,  Torfrida,  I  wish  I  were  as  good  as  you  !" 

"  Now — my  joy  and  my  life,  my  hero  and  my  scald 
— I  have  great  news  for  you,  as  well  as  a  little  baby. 
News  from  England." 

"You,  and  a  baby  over  and  above,  are  worth  all 
England  to  me." 

"  But  listen.     Edward  the  king  is  dead." 

"Then  there  is  one  fool  less  on  earth;  and  one 
saint  more,  I  suppose,  in  heaven." 

"And  Harold  Godwinsson  is  king  in  his  stead. 
And  he  has  married  your  niece  Aldytha,  and  sworn 
friendship  with  her  brothers." 

"  I  expected  no  less.  Well,  every  doe  has  his 
day." 

"  And  his  will  be  a  short  one.  William  of  Normandy 
has  sworn  to  drive  him  out." 

"  Then  he  will  do  it.  And  so  the  poor  little  Swan- 
neck  is  packed  into  a  convent,  that  the  houses  of 
Godwin  and  Leofric  may  rush  into  each  other's  arms, 
and  perish  together !  Fools,  fools,  fools !  I  will 
hear  no  more  of  such  a  mad  world.  My  queen,  tell 
me  about  your  sweet  self.  What  is  all  this  to  me? 
Am  I  not  a  wolfs  head,  and  a  landless  man?  " 

"O  my  king,  have  not  the  stars  told  me  that  you 
will  be  an  earl  and  a  ruler  of  men,  when  all  your  foes 
are  wolves'  heads  as  you  are  now?  And  the  weird 


HEREWARD    THE    WAKE.  201 

is  coming  true  already.  Tosti  Godwinsson  is  in  the 
town  at  this  moment,  an  outlaw  and  a  wolfs  head 
himself." 

Hereward  laughed  a  great  laugh. 

"Aha!  Every  man  to  his  right  place  at  last. 
Tell  me  about  that,  for  it  will  amuse  me.  I  have 
heard  naught  of  him  since  he  sent  the  king  his  Here- 
ford thralls'  arms  and  legs  in  the  pickle-barrels  ;  to 
show  him,  he  said,  that  there  was  plenty  of  cold 
meat  on  his  royal  demesnes." 

"You  have  not  heard,  then,  how  he  murdered  in 
his  own  chamber  at  York,  Gamel  Ormsson  and  Ulf 
Dolfinsson?" 

"That  poor  little  lad?  Well,  a  gracious  youth 
was  Tosti,  ever  since  he  went  to  kill  his  brother 
Harold  with  teeth  and  claws,  like  a  wolf;  and  as  he 
grows  in  years,  he  grows  in  grace.  But  what  said 
Ulf's  father  and  the  Gospatrics?" 

"They  were  I  know  not  where.  But  old  Gospatric 
came  down  to  Westminster,  to  demand  law  for  his 
grand-nephew's  blood." 

"A  silly  thing  of  the  old  Thane,  to  walk  into  the 
wolfs  den." 

"And  so  he  found.  He  was  stabbed  there,  three 
days  after  Christmastide,  and  men  say  that  Queen 
Edith  did  it,  for  love  of  Tosti,  her  brother.  Then 
Dolfin  and  the  Gospatrics  took  to  the  sea,  and  away 
to  Scotland  ;  and  so  Tosti  rid  himself  of  all  the  good 
blood  in  the  North,  except  young  Waltheof  Siwardsson, 
whose  turn,  I  fear,  will  come  next." 

"  How  comes  he  here,  then  ?  " 

"The  Northern  men  rose  at  that,  killed  his  servant 
at  York ;  took  all  his  treasures  ;  and  marched  down 
to  Northampton,  plundering  and  burning.  They 
would  have  marched  on  London  town,  if  Harold  had 
not  met  them  there  from  the  king.  There  they  cried 
out  against  Tosti,  and  all  his  taxes,  and  his  murders, 
and  his  changing  Canute's  laws,  and  would  have 


202  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

your  nephew  Morcar  for  their  earl.  A  tyrant  they 
would  not  endure.  Free  they  were  born  and  bred, 
they  said,  and  free  they  would  live  and  die.  Harold 
must  needs  do  justice,  even  on  his  own  brother." 

"  Especially  when  he  knows  that  that  brother  is  his 
worst  foe." 

"Harold  is  a  better  man  than  you  take  him  for, 
my  Hereward.  But  be  that  as  it  may,  Morcar  is 
earl ;  and  Tosti  outlawed,  and  here  in  St.  Omer, 
with  wife  and  child. "  p, 

"My  nephew  Earl  of  Northumbria!  As  I  might 
have  been,  if  1  had  been  a  wiser  man." 

"  If  you  had,  you  would  never  have  found  me." 

"True,  my  queen  !  They  say  heaven  tempers  the 
wind  to  the  shorn  lamb  ;  but  it  tempers  it  too,  some- 
times, to  the  hobbled  ass  ;  and  so  it  has  done  by  me. 
And  so  the  rogues  have  fallen  out,  and  honest  men 
may  come  by  their  own.  For  as  the  Northern  men 
have  done  by  one  brother,  so  will  the  Eastern  men 
do  by  the  other.  Let  Harold  see  how  many  of  those 
fat  Lincolnshire  manors,  which  he  has  seized  into  his 
own  hands,  he  holds  by  this  day  twelve  months.  But 
what  is  all  this  to  me,  my  queen,  while  you  and  I  can 
kiss,  and  laugh  the  world  to  scorn  ?  " 

"This  to  you,  beloved,  that,  great  as  you  are, 
Torfrida  must  have  you  greater  still ;  and  out  of  all 
this  coil  and  confusion  you  may  win  something,  if 
you  be  wise." 

"Sweet  lips,  be  still;  and  let  us  play  instead  of 
plotting." 

"  And  this,  too — you  shall  not  stop  my  mouth — that 
Harold  Godwinsson  has  sent  a  letter  to  you." 

"  Harold  Godwinsson  is  my  very  good  lord," 
sneered  Hereward. 

"And  this  it  said,  with  such  praises  and  courtesies 
concerning  you,  as  made  my  wife's  heart  beat  high 
with  pride — '  If  Hereward  Leofricsson  will  come  home 
to  England,  he  shall  have  his  rights  in  law  again, 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  203 

and  his  manors  in  Lincolnshire,  and  a  thaneship  in 
East  Anglia,  and  manors  for  his  men-at-arms;  and 
if  that  be  not  enough,  he  shall  have  an  earldom,  as 
soon  as  there  is  one  to  give.'  ' 

"  And  what  says  to  that,  Torfrida,  Hereward's 
queen?  " 

"  You  will  not  be  angry  if  I  answered  the  letter  for 
you?  " 

"  If  you  answered  it  one  way — no.  If  another — 
yes." 

Torfrida  trembled.  Then  she  looked  Hereward 
full  in  the  face  with  her  keen  clear  eyes. 

"  Now  shall  I  see  whether  I  have  given  myself  to 
Hereward  in  vain,  body  and  soul,  or  whether  I  have 
trained  him  to  be  my  true  and  perfect  knight." 

"  You  answered,  then,"  said  Hereward,  "  thus — 

"  Say  on,"  said  she,  turning  her  face  away  again. 

"  Hereward  Leofricsson  tells  Harold  Godwinsson 
that  he  is  his  equal,  and  not  his  man;  and  that  he 
will  never  put  his  hands  between  the  hands  of  a  son 
of  Godwin.  An  Etheling  born,  a  king  of  the  house 
of  Cerdic,  outlawed  him  from  his  right,  and  none 
but  an  Etheling  born  shall  give  him  his  right  again." 

"  I  said  it,  I  said  it.  Those  were  my  very  words  !  " 
and  Torfrida  burst  into  tears,  while  Hereward  kissed 
her,  almost  fawned  upon  her,  calling  her  his  queen, 
bis  saga-wife,  his  guardian  angel. 

"  I  was  sorely  tempted,"  sobbed  she.  "  Sorely, 
To  see  you  rich  and  proud  upon  your  own  lands,  an 
earl,  may  be — may  be,  I  thought  at  whiles,  a  king. 
But  it  could  not  be.  It  did  not  stand  with  honour. 
my  hero — not  with  honour." 

"  Not  with  honour.  Get  me  gay  garments  out 
of  the  chest,  and  let  us  go  in  royally,  and  royally  feast 
my  jolly  riders." 

"  Stay  awhile,"  said  she,  kissing  his  head  as  she 
combed  and  curled  his  long  golden  locks,  and  her  own 
raven  ones,  hardly  more  beautiful,  fell  over  them  and 


204  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

mingled  with  them.  "  Stay  awhile,  my  pride.  There 
is  another  spell  in  the  wind,  stirred  up  by  devil  or 
witch-wife,  and  it  comes  from  Tosti  Godwinsson." 

"Tosti,  the  cold-meat  butcher?  What  has  he  to 
say  to  me  ?  " 

"This  —  'If  Hereward  will  come  with  me  to 
William  of  Normandy,  and  help  us  against  Harold 
the  perjured,  then  will  William  do  for  him  all  that 
Harold  would  have  done,  and  more  beside.' " 

"And  what  answered  Torfrida  ?  " 

"  It  was  not  so  said  to  me  that  I  could  answer.  I 
had  it  by  a  side  wind,  through  the  Countess  Judith."-1 

"  And  she  had  it  from  her  sister  Matilda." 

"And  she,  of  course,  from  Duke  William  himself." 

"And  what  would  you  have  answered,  if  you  had 
answered,  pretty  one  ?  " 

"  Nay,  I  know  not.  I  cannot  be  always  queen. 
You  must  be  king  sometimes." 

Torfrida  did  not  say  that  this  latter  offer  had  been 
a  much  sorer  temptation  than  the  former. 

"And  has  not  the  base-born  Frenchman  enough 
knights  of  his  own,  that  he  needs  the  help  of  an 
outlaw  like  me  ?  " 

"  He  asks  for  help  from  all  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
He  has  sent  that  Lanfranc  to  the  Pope  ;  and  there  is 
talk  of  a  sacred  banner,  and  a  crusade  against 
England." 

"The  monks  are  with  him,  then?"  said  Hereward. 
"That  is  one  more  count  in  their  score.  But  I  am 
no  monk.  I  have  shorn  many  a  crown,  but  I  have 
kept  my  own  hair  as  yet,  you  see." 

"  I  do  see,"  said  she,  playing  with  his  locks.  "  But 
— but  he  wants  you.  He  has  sent  for  Angevins, 
Poitevins,  Bretons,  Flemings  —  promising  lands, 
rank,  money,  what  not.  Tosti  is  recruiting  for  him 
here  in  Flanders  now.  He  will  soon  be  off  to  the 

1  Tosti's    v-ife,   Earl   Baldwin's    daughter,   sister    of  Matilda,   William    the 
Conqueror's  wife. 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  205 

Orkneys,  I  suspect,  or  to  Sweyn  in  Denmark,  after 
Vikings." 

"  Here?     Has  Baldwin  promised  him  men?" 

"  What  could  the  good  old  man  do?  He  could  not 
refuse  his  own  son-in-law.  This,  at  least,  I  know, 
that  a  messenger  has  gone  off  to  Scotland,  to  Gilbert 
of  Ghent,  to  bring  or  send  any  bold  Flemings  who 
may  prefer  fat  England  to  lean  Scotland." 

"Lands,  rank,  money,  eh?  So  he  intends  that  the 
war  should  pay  itself — out  of  English  purses.  What 
answer  would  you  have  me  make  to  that,  wife  mine?" 

"  The  Duke  is  a  terrible  man.  What  if  he  conquers  ? 
And  conquer  he  will." 

"  Is  that  written  in  your  stars?" 

"  It  is,  I  fear.     And  if  he  have  the  Pope's  blessing, 

and  the  Pope's  banner Dare  we  resist  the  Holy 

Father?" 

"Holy  stepfather,  you  mean;  for  a  stepfather  he 
seems  to  prove  to  merry  England.  But  do  you  really 
believe  that  an  old  man  down  in  Italy  can  make  a  bit 
of  rag  conquer  by  saying  a  few  prayers  at  it?  If 
I  am  to  believe  in  a  magic  flag,  give  me  Harold 
Hardraade's  Landcyda,  at  least,  with  Harold  and 
his  Norsemen  behind  it." 

"William's  French  are  as  good  as  those  Norsemen, 
man  for  man  ;  and  horsed  withal,  Hereward." 

"That  may  be,"  said  he,  half  testily,  with  a  curse 
on  the  tanner's  grandson  and  his  French  popinjays, 
"and  our  Englishmen  are  as  good  as  any  two 
Norsemen,  as  the  Norse  themselves  say."  He  could 
not  divine,  and  Torfrida  hardly  liked  to  explain  to 
him,  the  glamour  which  the  Duke  of  Normandy  had 
cast  over  her,  as  the  representative  of  chivalry,  learn- 
ing, civilisation,  a  new  and  nobler  life  for  men  than 
.^e  world  had  yet  seen  ;  one  which  seemed  to  connect 
the  young  races  of  Europe  with  the  wisdom  of 
the  ancients  and  the  magic  glories  of  old  Imperial 
Rome. 


206  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"You  are  not  fair  to  that  man,"  said  she,  after 
awhile.  "  Hereward,  Hereward,  have  I  not  told  you 
how,  though  body  be  strong",  mind  is  stronger?  That 
is  what  that  man  knows  ;  and  therefore  he  has 
prospered.  Therefore  his  realms  are  full  of  wise 
scholars,  and  thriving-  schools,  and  fair  minsters, 
and  his  men  are  sober,  and  wise,  and  learned  like 
clerks " 

"  And  false  like  clerks,  as  he  is  himself.  Schoolcraft 
and  honesty  never  went  yet  together,  Torfrida " 

"Not  in  me?" 

"  You  are  not  a  clerk  :  you  are  a  woman,  and  more 
than  woman  ;  you  are  an  elf,  a  goddess  ;  there  is  none 
like  you.  But  hearken  to  me.  This  man  is  false. 
All  the  world  knows  it." 

"  He  promises,  they  say,  to  govern  England  justly 
as  King  Edward's  heir,  according  to  the  old  laws 
and  liberties  of  the  realm." 

"  Of  course.  If  he  does  not  come  as  the  old  monk's 
heir,  how  does  he  come  at  all  ?  If  he  does  not  promise 
our — their,  I  mean,  for  I  am  no  Englishman — laws 
and  liberties,  who  will  join  him  ?  But  his  riders  and 
hirelings  will  not  fight  for  nothing.  They  must  be 
paid  with  English  land,  and  English  land  they  will 
have,  for  they  will  be  his  men,  whoever  else  are  not. 
They  will  be  his  darlings,  his  housecades,  his  hawks 
to  sit  on  his  fist  and  fly  at  his  game  ;  and  English 
bones  will  be  picked  clean  to  feed  them.  And  you 
would  have  me  help  to  do  that,  Torfrida?  Is  that 
the  honour  of  which  you  spoke  so  boldly  to  Harold 
Godwinsson  ?  " 

Torfrida  was  silent.  To  have  brought  Hereward 
under  the  influence  of  William  was  an  old  dream  of 
hers.  And  yet  she  was  proud  at  the  dream  being 
broken  thus.  And  so  she  said  : 

"You  are  right!  It  is  better  for  you — it  is  better 
than  to  be  William's  darling,  and  the  greatest  earl  in 
his  court — to  feel  that  you  are  still  an  Englishman. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  207 

Promise  me  but  one  thing1,  that  you  will  make  no  fierce 
or  desperate  answer  to  the  Duke." 

"  And  why  not  answer  the  tanner  as  he  deserves?  " 

"  Because  my  art,  and  my  heart  too,  tells  me  that 
your  fortunes  and  his  are  linked  together.  I  have 
studied  my  tables,  but  they  would  not  answer.  Then 
I  cast  lots  in  Virgilius " 

"  And  what  found  you  there? "  asked  he  anxiously. 

"  I  opened  at  the  lines — 

"  Pacem  me  exanimis  et  Martis  sorte  peremptis, 
Gratis  ?     Equidem  et  vivis  concedere  vellem.  " 

"  And  what  means  that  ?  " 

"That  you  may  have  to  pray  him  to  pity  the  slain  ; 
and  have  for  answer,  that  their  lands  may  be  yours  if 
you  will  but  make  peace  with  him.  At  least,  do  not 
break  hopelessly  with  that  man.  Above  all,  never 
use  that  word  concerning  him  which  you  used  just 
now  ;  the  word  which  he  never  forgives.  Remember 
what  he  did  to  them  of  Alenson,  when  they  hung  raw 
hides  over  the  wall,  and  cried,  '  Plenty  of  work  for 
the  tanner  ! '  " 

"Let  him  pick  out  the  prisoners'  eyes,  and  chop 
off  their  hands,  and  shoot  them  into  the  town  from 
mangonels.  I  know  him  :  but  he  must  go  far  and 
thrive  well  ere  I  give  him  a  chance  of  doing  that  by 
the  Wake." 

"  Hereward,  Hereward,  my  own!  Boast  not,  but 
fear  God.  Who  knows,  in  such  a  world  as  this,  to 
what  end  we  may  come  ?  Night  after  night  I  am 
haunted  with  spectres,  eyeless,  handless " 

"This  is  cold  comfort  for  a  man  just  out  of  hard 
fighting  in  the  ague-fens  !  " 

She  threw  her  arms  round  him,  and  held  him  as 
if  she  would  never  let  him  go. 

"  When  you  die,  I  die.  And  you  will  not  die  :  you 
will  be  great  and  glorious,  and  your  name  will  be 
sungf  by  scald  and  minstrel  through  many  a  land, 


208  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

far  and  wide.  Only,  be  not  rash.  Be  not  high- 
minded.  Promise  me  to  answer  this  man  wisely. 
The  more  crafty  he  is,  the  more  crafty  must  you  be 
likewise." 

"  Let  us  tell  this  mighty  hero  then,"  said  Hereward, 
trying  to  laugh  away  her  fears — and  perhaps  his  own, 
"that  while  he  has  the  Holy  Father  on  his  side,  he 
can  need  no  help  from  a  poor  sinful  worm  like  me." 

"  Hereward,  Hereward  !  " 

"Why,  is  there  aught  about  hides  in  that?" 

"I  want — I  want  an  answer  which  may  not  cut  off 
all  hope  in  case  of  the  worst." 

"Then  let  us  say  boldly,  '  On  the  day  that  William 
is  King  of  all  England,  Hereward  will  come  and  put 
his  hands  between  his,  and  be  his  man.'" 

That  message  was  sent  to  William  at  Rouen.  He 
laughed, — 

"It  is  a  fair  challenge  from  a  valiant  man.  The 
day  shall  come  when  I  will  claim  it." 

Tosti  and  Hereward  passed  that  winter  in  St. 
Omer,  living  in  the  same  street,  passing  each  other 
day  by  day,  and  never  spoke  a  word  one  to  the 
other. 

Robert  the  Prison  heard  of  it,  and  tried  to  persuade 
Hereward. 

"Let  him  purge  himself  of  the  murder  of  Ulf  the 
boy,  son  of  my  friend  Dolfin  ;  and  after  that  of 
Gamel,  son  of  Orm  ;  and  after  that  again  of  Gospatric, 
my  father's  friend,  whom  his  sister  slew  for  his  sake  ; 
and  then  an  honest  man  may  talk  with  him.  Were 
he  not  my  good  lord's  brother-in-law,  as  he  is,  more's 
the  pity,  I  would  challenge  him  to  fight  a  routrance, 
with  any  weapons  he  might  choose." 

"  Heaven  protect  him  in  that  case,"  quoth  Robert 
the  Prison. 

"As  it  is,  I  will  keep  the  peace.  And  I  will  see 
that  my  men  keep  the  peace,  though  there  are 
Scarborough  and  Bamborough  lads  among  them, 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  209 

who  long  to  cut  his  throat  upon  the  streets.     But 
more  I  will  not  do." 

So  Tosti  sulked  through  the  winter  at  St.  Omer. 
Suddenly  he  turned  traitor  (no  man  knows  why)  to 
his  good  brother-in-law  and  new  ally,  William  of 
Normandy ;  and  went  off  to  get  help  from  Sweyn 
of  Denmark,  and,  failing  that,  from  Harold  Hardraade 
of  Norway.  But  how  he  sped  there  must  be  read 
in  the  words  of  a  cunninger  saga-man  than  this 
chronicler,  even  in  those  of  the  Icelandic  Homer, 
Snorro  Sturleson. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

HOW    HEREWARD   WAS   ASKED   TO   SLAY   AN   OLD 
COMRADE. 

IN  those  days  Hereward  went  into  Bruges,  to  Marquis 
Baldwin,  about  his  business.  And  as  he  walked  in 
Bruges  street,  he  met  an  old  friend,  Gilbert  of 
Ghent. 

He  had  grown  somewhat  stouter,  and  somewhat 
grayer,  in  the  last  ten  years  :  but  he  was  as  hearty  as 
ever,  and  as  honest,  according  to  his  own  notions 
of  honesty. 

He  shook  Hereward  by  both  hands,  clapt  him 
on  the  back,  swore  with  many  oaths,  that  he  had 
heard  of  his  fame  in  all  lands,  that  he  always  said 
that  he  would  turn  out  a  champion,  and  a  gallant 
knight,  and  had  said  it  long  before  he  killed  the  bear. 
As  for  killing  it,  it  was  no  more  than  he  expected, 
and  nothing  to  what  Hereward  had  done  since,  and 
would  do  yet. 

Wherefrom  Hereward  opined  that  Gilbert  had  need 
of  him. 

They  chatted  on :  Hereward  asking  after  old 
friends,  and  sometimes  after  old  foes,  whom  he  had 


210  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

long  since  forgiven  ;  for  though  he  always  avenged 
an  injury,  he  never  bore  malice  for  one  :  a  distinction 
less  common  now  than  then,  when  a  man's  honour, 
as  well  as  his  safety,  depended  on  his  striking  again, 
when  he  was  struck. 

"And  how  is  little  Alftruda? — Big  she  must  be 
now  ?  "  asked  he  at  last. 

"The  fiend  fly  away  with  her — or  rather,  would 
that  he  had  flown  away  with  her,  before  ever  I  saw 
the  troublesome  jade.  Big  ?  She  is  grown  into  the 
most  beautiful  lass  that  ever  was  seen — which  is, 
what  a  young  fellow,  like  you,  cares  for  ;  and  more 
trouble  to  me  than  all  my  money,  which  is  what  an 
old  fellow,  like  me,  cares  for.  It  is  partly  about  her 
that  I  am  over  here  now.  Fool  that  I  was,  ever  to 
let  a  Princess  into  my  house  ; "  and  Gilbert  swore  a 
great  deal. 

"How  was  she  a  Princess?  I  forget,"  said  Here- 
ward,  who  cared  nothing  about  the  matter.  "  And 
how  came  she  into  your  house  ?  I  never  could  under- 
stand that,  any  more  than  how  the  bear  came  there." 

"Ah?  As  to  the  bear,  I  have  my  secrets,  which 
I  tell  no  one.  He  is  dead  and  buried,  thanks  to  you." 

"And  I  sleep  on  his  skin  every  night." 

"You  do,  my  little  Champion?  Well — warm  is 
the  bed  that  is  well  earned.  But  as  for  her  ; — see 
here,  and  I'll  tell  you.  She  was  Gospatric's  ward, 
and  kinswoman — how,  I  do  not  rightly  know.  But 
this  I  know,  that  she  comes  from  Uchtred,  the  earl 
whom  Canute  slew,  and  that  she  is  heir  to  great 
estates  in  Northumberland." 

"Gospatric,  that  fought  at  Dunsinane?" 

"Yes,  not  the  old  Thane,  his  uncle,  whom  Tosti 
has  murdered  :  but  Gospatric,  King  Malcolm's  cousin, 
Dolfin's  father.  Well,  she  was  his  ward.  He  gave 
me  her  to  keep,  for  he  wanted  her  out  of  harm's 
way — the  lass  having  a  bonny  dower,  lands  and 
money — till  he  could  marry  her  up  to  one  of  his  sons. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  an 

I  took  her :  but  of  course  I  was  not  going  to  do  other 
men's  work  for  naught  ;  so  I  would  have  married  her 
up  to  my  poor  boy,  if  he  had  but  lived.  But  he 
would  not  live,  as  you  know.  Then  1  would  have 
married  her  to  you,  and  made  you  my  heir,  I  tell  you 
honestly,  if  you  had  not  flown  off,  like  a  hot-headed 
young  springald  as  you  were  then." 

"You  were  very  kind.  But  how  is  she  a  Prin- 
cess ?" 

"  Princess  ?  Twice  over.  Her  father  was  of  high 
blood  among  the  Saxons  ;  and  it  not,  are  not  all  the 
Gospatrics  Ethelings  ?  Their  grandmother,  Uchtred's 
wife,  was  Ethelred  Evil-Counsel's  daughter  ;  and  I 
have  heard  that  this  girl's  grandfather  was  his  son — 
but  died  young — or  was  killed.  Who  cares  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  quoth  Hereward. 

*'  Well- — Gospatric  wants  to  marry  her  to  Dolfin, 
his  eldest  son." 

"Why,  Dolfin  had  a  wife  when  I  was  at  Dun- 
sinane." 

"  But  she  is  dead  since,  and  young  Ulf,  her  son, 
was  murdered  by  Tosli  last  winter." 

"  I  know." 

"  Whereon  Gospatric  sends  to  me  for  the  girl  and 
her  dowry.  What  was  I  to  do  ?  Give  her  up  ? 
Xittle  it  is,  lad,  that  I  ever  gave  up,  after  I  had  it 
once  in  my  grip,  or  1  should  be  a  poorer  man  than 
I  am  now.  Have  and  hold,  is  my  rule.  What  should 
I  do?  What  I  did.  I  was  coming  hither  on  business 
of  my  own,  so  I  put  her  on  board  ship,  and  half  her 
dower — where  the  other  half  is,  I  know  ;  and  man 
must  draw  me  with  wild  horses,  before  he  finds  out : 
• — and  came  here  to  my  kinsman,  Baldwin,  to  see  if  he 
had  any  proper  young  fellow  to  whom  we  might  marry 
the  lass,  and  so  go  shares  in  her  money  and  the 
family  connection.  Could  a  man  do  more  wisely  ?  " 

"  Impossible,"  quoth  Hereward. 

"  But  see  how  a  wise  man  is  lost  by  fortune.     When 


2i2  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

I  come  here,  whom  should  I  find  but  Dolfin  himself? 
The  rogue  had  scent  of  my  plan,  all  the  way  from 
Dolfinston  there,  by  Peebles.  He  hunts  me  out,  the 
hungry  Scotch  wolf;  rides  for  Leith,  takes  ship,  and 
is  here  to  meet  me,  having  accused  me  before  Baldwin 
as  a  robber  and  a  ravisher,  and  offered  to  prove  his 
right  to  the  jade  on  my  body  in  single  combat." 

"The  villain!"  quoth  Hereward.  "There  is  no 
modesty  left  on  earth,  nor  prudence  either.  To  come 
here,  where  he  might  have  stumbled  on  Tosti,  who 
murdered  his  son,  and  who  would  surely  do  the  like 
by  him  himself.  Lucky  for  him  that  Tosti  is  off  to 
Norway  on  his  own  errand." 

"  Modesty  and  prudence?  None  nowadays,  young 
sire  ;  nor  justice  either,  I  think  ;  for  when  Baldwin 
hears  us  both — and  I  told  my  story  as  cannily  as 
I  could — he  tells  me  that  he  is  very  sorry  for  an  old 
vassal  and  kinsman,  and  so  forth, — but  I  must  either 
disgorge  or  fight." 

"  Then  fight,"  quoth  Hereward. 

"Per  se  aut  per  campionem, — that's  the  old  law, 
you  know." 

"Not  a  doubt  of  it." 

"  Look  you,  Hereward.  I  am  no  coward,  nor  a 
clumsy  man  of  my  hands." 

"  He  is  either  fool  or  liar  who  says  so." 

"  But  see.  I  find  it  hard  work  to  hold  my  own  in 
Scotland  now.  Folks  don't  like  me,  or  trust  me  ;  1 
can't  say  why." 

"  How  unreasonable  !  "  quoth  Hereward. 

"  And  if  I  kill  this  youth,  and  so  have  a  blood-feud 
with  Gospatric,  I  have  a  hornet's  nest  about  my  ears. 
Not  only  he  and  his  sons — who  are  masters  of  Scotch 
Northumberland1 — but  all  his  cousins — King  Malcolm, 
and  Donaldbain,  and,  for  aught  I  know,  Harold  a 
the  Godwinssons,  if  he  bid  them  take  up  the  quarrel 
And  beside,  that  Dolfin  is  a  big  man.  Ifyoucros: 

1  Between  Tweed  and  Forth 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  213 

Scot  and  Saxon,  you  breed  a  very  big  man.  If  you 
cross  again  with  a  Dane  or  a  Norseman,  you  breed  a 
giant.  His  grandfather  was  a  Scots  prince,  his 
grandmother  an  English  Princess,  his  mother  a  Norse 
Princess,  as  you  know — and  how  big  he  is,  you  should 
remember.  He  weighs  half  as  much  again  as  I,  and 
twice  as  much  as  you." 

"  Butchers  count  by  weight,  and  knights  by 
courage,"  quoth  Hereward. 

"  Very  well  for  you,  who  are  young  and  active  :  but 
I  take  him  to  be  a  better  man  than  that  Ogre  of 
Cornwall,  whom  they  say  you  killed." 

"What  care  I  ?  Let  him  be  twice  as  good,  I'd  try 
him." 

"Ah!  I  knew  you  were  the  old  Hereward  still. 
Now  hearken  to  me.  Be  my  champion.  You  owe 
me  a  service,  lad.  Fight  that  man.  Challenge  him 
in  open  field.  Kill  him,  as  you  are  sure  to  do.  Claim 
the  lass,  and  win  her — and  then  we  will  part  her 
dower.  And  (though  it  is  little  that  I  care  for  young 
lasses'  fancies),  to  tell  you  truth,  she  never  favoured 
any  man  but  you." 

Hereward  started  at  the  snare  which  had  been  laid 
for  him  ;  and  then  fell  into  a  very  great  laughter. 

"  My  most  dear  and  generous  host  :  you  are  the 
wiser,  the  older  you  grow.  A  plan  worthy  of 
Solomon  !  You  are  rid  of  Sieur  Dolfin  without  any 
blame  to  yourself." 

"Just  so." 

0  "  While    I    win    the    lass  ;    and,    living    here    in 
Flanders,  am   tolerably  safe  from   any  blood-feud  of 
Sthe  Gospatrics." 

"Just  so." 

1  "  Perfect :  but  there  is  only  one  small  hindrance  to 
the  plan  ;  and  that  is — that  I  am  married  already." 

Gilbert  stopped  short,  and  swore  a  great  oath. 
"  But,"  he  said  after  a  while,  "  does  that  matter  so 
much  after  all  ?  " 


214  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

"  Very  little,  indeed,  as  all  the  world  knows,  if  one 
has  money  enough,  and  power  enough." 

"  And  you  have  both,  they  say." 

"  But,  still  more  unhappily,  my  money  is  my 
wife's." 

"  Peste  I  " 

"  And  more  unhappily  still,  I  am  so  foolishly  fond 
of  her,  that  I  would  sooner  have  her  in  her  smock, 
than  any  other  woman  with  half  England  for  a 
dower." 

"  Then  I  suppose  I  must  look  out  for  another 
champion." 

"  Or  save  yourself  the  trouble,  by  being — just  as  a 
change— an  honest  man." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,"  said  Gilbert,  laughing; 
"  but  it  is  hard  to  begin  so  late  in  life." 

"  And  after  one  has  had  so  little  practice." 

"  Aha !  Thou  art  the  same  merry  dog  of  a 
Hereward.  Come  along.  But  could  we  not  poison 
thisDolfin,  after  all?  " 

To  which  proposal  Hereward  gave  no  encourage- 
ment. 

"  And  now,  my  tres  beau  sire,  may  I  ask  you,  in 
return,  what  business  brings  you  to  Flanders  ?  ' 

"  Have  I  not  told  you?  " 

"  No,  but  I  have  guessed.  Gilbert  of  Ghent  is  on 
his  way  to  William  of  Normandy." 

"Well.     Why  not?" 

"Why  not? — Certainly.  And  has  brought  out  of 
Scotland  a  few  gallant  gentlemen,  and  stout  house- 
carles  of  my  acquaintance." 

Gilbert  laughed. 

"  You  may  well  say  that.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
we  have  flitted,  bag  and  baggage,  f  don't  believe 
that  we  have  left  a  dog  behind." 

"  So  you  intend  to  'colonise'  in  England,  as  the 
learned  clerks  would  call  it?  To  settle;  to  own 
land;  and  enter,  like  the  Jews  of  old,  into  goodly 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  215 

houses  which  you  builded  not,  farms  which  you  tilled 
not,  wells  which  you  digged  not,  and  orchards  which 
you  planted  not  ?  " 

"Why,  what  a  learned  clerk  you  are  yourself! 
That  sounds  like  Scripture." 

"And  so  it  is.  I  heard  it  in  a  French  priest's 
sermon  which  he  preached  here  in  St.  Omer  a  Sunday 
or  two  back,  exhorting  all  good  Catholics,  in  the 
Pope's  name,  to  enter  upon  the  barbarous  land  of 
England,  tainted  with  the  sin  of  Simon  Magus,  and 
expel  thence  the  heretical  priests,  and  so  forth  ; 
promising  them  that  they  should  have  free  leave  to 
cut  long  thongs  out  of  other  men's  hides." 

Gilbert  chuckled. 

"  You  laugh.  The  priest  did  not ;  for  after  sermon 
I  went  up  to  him,  and  told  him  how  I  was  an 
Englishman,  and  an  outlaw,  and  a  desperate  man, 
who  feared  neither  saint  nor  devil  ;  and  if  I  heard 
such  talk  as  that  again  in  St.  Omer,  I  would  so  shave 
the  speaker's  crown  that  he  should  never  need  razor 
to  his  dying  day." 

"  And  what  is  that  to  me  ? "  said  Gilbert,  in  an 
uneasy,  half-defiant  tone  ;  for  H  reward's  tone  had 
been  mote  than  half-defiant. 

"This.  That  there  are  certain  broad  lands  in 
England,  vlhich  were  my  father's,  and  are  now  my 
nephews'  and  my  mother's,  and  some  which  should 
of  right  be  mine.  And  I  advise  you,  as  a  friend,  not 
to  make  entry  on  those  lands,  lest  Hereward  in  turn 
make  entry  on  you.  And  who  is  he  that  will  deliver 
you  out  of  my  hand  ?  " 

"  God  and  His  Sa'nts  alone,  thou  fiend  out  of  the 
pit,"  quoth  Gilbert,  laughing.  But  he  was  growing 
warm,  and  began  to  tutoyer  Hereward. 

11  I  am  in  earnest,  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  my  good  friend 
of  old  time." 

"  I  know  thee  well  enough,  man.  Why,  in  the 
name  of  all  glory  and  plunder,  art  thou  not  coming 


2i6  HE  RE  WARD   THE    WAKE 

with   us  ?     They  say  William    has   offered   thee   the 
earldom  of  Northumberland." 

"  He  has  not.  And  if  he  had,  it  is  not  his  to  give. 
And  if  it  were,  it  is  by  right  neither  mine,  nor  my 
nephews',  but  Waltheof  Siwardsson's.  Now  hearken 
unto  me ;  and  settle  it  in  your  minds,  thou  and 
William  both,  that  your  quarrel  is  against  none  but 
Harold  and  the  Godwinssons,  and  their  men  of 
Wessex  :  but  that  if  you  go  to  cross  the  Watling 
Street,  and  meddle  with  the  free  Danes,  who  are  none 
of  Harold's  men " 

"  Stay.  Harold  has  large  manors  in  Lincolnshire, 
and  so  has  Edith  his  sister,  and  what  of  them,  Sieur 
Hereward  ?" 

"That  the  man  who  touches  them,  even  though 
the  men  on  them  may  fight  on  Harold's  side,  had 
better  have  put  his  head  into  a  hornet's  nest. 
Unjustly  were  they  seized  from  their  true  owners  by 
Harold  and  his  fathers  ;  and  the  holders  of  them  will 
owe  no  service  to  him  a  day  longer  than  they  can 
help  :  but  will,  if  he  fall,  demand  an  Earl  of  their  own 
race,  or  fight  to  the  death." 

"  Best  make  young  Waltheof  Earl,  then." 

"  Best  keep  thy  foot  out  of  them,  and  the  foot  of 
any  man  for  whom  thou  carest.  Now  good-bye. 
Friends  we  are,  and  friends  let  us  be." 

"Ah,  that  thou  wert  coming  to  England  !  " 

"I  bide  my  time.  Come  I  may,  when  I  see  fit. 
But  whether  I  come  as  friend  or  foe,  depends  on  that 
of  which  I  have  given  thee  fair  warning." 

So  they  parted  for  the  time. 

It  will  be  seen  hereafter,  how  Gilbert  took  his  own 
advice  about  young  Waltheof:  but  did  not  take 
Hereward's  advice  about  the  Lincoln  manors. 

In  Baldwin's  hall  that  day,  Hereward  met  Dolfin  ; 
and  when  the  magnificent  young  Scot  sprang  to 
him,  embraced  him,  bewailed  his  murdered  boy, 
talked  over  old  passages,  complimented  him  on  his 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  217 

fame,  lamented  that  he  himself  had  won  no  such 
honours  in  the  field,  Hereward  felt  much  more 
inclined  to  fight  for  him  than  against  him. 

Presently  the  ladies  entered  from  the  bower 
adjoining  the  hall.  A  buzz  of  expectation  rose  from 
all  the  knights,  and  Alftruda's  name  was  whispered 
round. 

She  came  in  ;  and  Hereward  saw  at  the  first  glance 
that  Gilbert  had  for  once  in  his  life  spoken  truth. 
So  beautiful  a  damsel  he  had  never  beheld  ;  and  as 
she  swept  down  toward  him,  he  for  one  moment 
forgot  Torfrida,  and  stood  spell  -  bound  like  the 
rest. 

Her  eye  caught  his.  If  his  face  showed  recogni- 
tion, hers  showed  none.  The  remembrance  of  their 
early  friendship,  of  her  deliverance  from  the  monster, 
had  plainly  passed  away. 

"Fickle,  ungrateful  things,  these  women,"  thought 
Hereward. 

She  passed  him  close.  As  she  did  so,  she  turned 
her  head,  and  looked  him  full  in  the  face  one  moment, 
haughty  and  cold. 

"So  you  could  not  wait  for  me?"  said  she>  in  a 
quiet  whisper,  and  went  on  straight  to  Dolfin,  who 
stood  trembling  with  expectation  and  delight. 

She  put  her  hand  into  his. 

"  Here  stands  my  champion,"  said  she. 

"  Say,  here  kneels  your  slave,"  cried  the  Scot, 
dropping  to  the  pavement  a  true  Highland  knee. 
Whereon  forth  twanged  a  harp,  and  Dolfin's  minstrel 
sang,  in  most  melodious  Gaelic  : 

Strong  as  a  horse's  hock,  shaggy  as  a  stag's  brisket, 

Is  the  knee  of  the  young  torrent-leaper,  the  pride  of  the  house 

of  Crinan. 
It  bent  not  to   Macbeth  the   accursed,    it   bends  not   even   to 

Malcolm  the  Anointed, 
But  it  bends  like  a  harebell — who  shall  blame  it  ? — before  the 

breath  of  beauty. 


2i8  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

Which  magnificent  effusion  being  interpreted  by 
Hereward  for  the  instruction  of  the  ladies,  procured 
for  the  red-headed  bard  more  than  one  handsome 
gift. 

A  sturdy  voice  arose  out  of  the  crowd. 

"The  lady,  my  Lord  Marquis,  and  knights  all,  will 
need  no  champion  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  When 
one  sees  so  fair  a  pair  together,  what  can  a  knight 
say,  in  the  name  of  all  knighthood,  but  that  the 
heavens  have  made  them  for  each  other,  and  that  it 
were  sin  and  shame  to  sunder  them?" 

The  voice  was  that  of  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  who, 
making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  walked  up  to  the  pair, 
his  weather-beaten  countenance  wreathed  into  what 
were  meant  for  paternal  smiles. 

"Why  did  you  not  say  as  much  in  Scotland,  and 
save  me  all  this  trouble?"  pertinently  asked  the 
plain-spoken  Scot. 

"  My  Lord  Prince,  you  owe  me  a  debt  for  my 
caution.  Without  it,  the  fair  lady  had  never  known 
the  whole  fervency  of  your  love ;  nor  these  noble 
knights  and  yourself  the  whole  evenness  of  Count 
Baldwin's  justice." 

Alftruda  turned  her  head  away  half  contemptuously  ; 
and  as  she  did  sp,  she  let  her  hand  drop  listlessly 
from  Dolfin's  grasp,  and  drew  back  to  the  other 
ladies. 

A  suspicion  crossed  Hereward's  mind.  Did  she 
really  love  the  Prince  ?  Did  those  strange  words  of 
hers  mean  that  she  had  not  yet  forgotten  Hereward 
himself? 

However,  he  said  to  himself  that  it  was  no  concern 
of  his,  as  it  certainly  was  not :  went  home  to 
Torfrida ;  told  her  everything  that  had  happened  ; 
laughed  over  it  with  her ;  and  then  forgot  Alftruda, 
Dolfin,  and  Gilbert,  in  the  prospect  of  a  great 
campaign  in  Holland. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  219 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

HOW  HEREWARD  TOOK  THE   NEWS  FROM  STANFORD- 
BRIGG  AND  HASTINGS. 

AFTER  that,  news  came  thick  and  fast. 

News  of  all  the  fowl  of  heaven  flocking  to  the  feast 
of  the  great  God,  that  they  might  eat  the  flesh  of 
kings,  and  captains,  and  mighty  men,  and  horses, 
and  them  that  sit  on  them,  and  the  flesh  of  all  men, 
both  bond  and  free. 

News  true,  news  half-true,  news  false.  News 
from  Rome,  how  England,  when  conquered,  was 
to  be  held  as  a  fief  of  St.  Peter,  and  spiritually, 
as  well  as  temporally,  enslaved.  News  how  the 
Gonfanon  of  St.  Peter,  and  a  ring  with  a  bit  of 
St.  Peter  himself  enclosed  therein,  had  come  to 
Rouen,  to  go  before  the  Norman  host  as  the  Ark 
went  before  that  of  Israel. 

Then  news  from  the  North.  How  Tosti  had  been 
to  Sweyn,  and  bid  him  come  back  and  win  the 
country  again,  as  Canute  his  uncle  had  done;  and 
how  the  cautious  Dane  had  answered  that  he  was 
a  much  smaller  man  than  Canute;  that  he  had 
enough  to  hold  his  own  against  the  Norseman,  and 
could  not  afford  to  throw  for  such  high  stakes  as 
his  mighty  uncle. 

Then  news  how  Tosti  had  been  to  Norway,  to 
Harold  Hardraade,  and  asked  him  why  he  had  been 
fighting  fifteen  years  for  Denmark,  when  England 
lay  open  to  him.  And  how  Harold  of  Norway  had 
agreed  to  come;  and  how  he  had  levied  one-half 
of  the  able-bodied  men  in  Norway;  and  how  he 
was  gathering  a  mighty  fleet  at  Solundir,  in  the 
mouth  of  the  Sogne  Fiord.  Of  all  this  Hereward 
was  well  informed;  for  Tosti  came  back  again  to 
St.  Omer,  and  talked  big.  But  Hereward  and  he 


220  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

had  no  dealings  with  each  other.  But  at  last,  when 
Tosti  tried  to  entice  some  of  Hereward's  men  to  sail 
with  him,  Hereward  sent  him  word  that  if  he  met 
him,  he  would  kill  him  in  the  streets. 

Then  Tosti,  who  (though  he  wanted  not  for 
courage)  knew  that  he  was  no  match  for  Hereward, 
went  off  to  Bruges,  leaving  his  wife  and  family 
behind  ;  gathered  sixty  ships  at  Ostend  ;  went  off 
to  the  Isle  of  Wight ;  and  forced  the  landsfolk  to 
give  him  money  and  food.  Then  Harold  of  England's 
fleet,  which  was  watching  the  coast  against  the 
Normans,  drove  him  away  ;  and  he  sailed  off  north, 
full  of  black  rage  against  his  brother  Harold  and 
all  Englishmen,  and  burned,  plundered,  and  murdered, 
along  the  coast  of  Lincolnshire,  out  of  brute  spite  to 
the  Danes  who  had  expelled  him. 

Then  came  news  how  he  had  got  into  the  Humber  ; 
how  Morcar  and  Edwin  with  the  Northumbrians  had 
driven  him  out ;  and  how  he  had  gone  off  to  Scotland 
to  meet  Harold  of  Norway  ;  and  how  he  had  put  his 
hands  between  Harold's,  and  become  his  man. 

And  all  the  while  the  Norman  camp  at  St.  Pierre- 
sur-Dive  grew  and  grew  ;  and  all  was  ready,  if  the 
wind  would  but  change. 

And  so  Hereward  looked  on,  helpless,  and  saw 
these  two  great  storm-clouds  growing  —  one  from 
north,  and  one  from  south — to  burst  upon  his  native 
land. 

Two  invasions  at  the  same  moment  of  time  ;  and 
these  no  mere  Viking  raids  for  plunder,  but  deliberate 
attempts  at  conquest  and  colonisation,  by  the  twc 
most  famous  captains  of  the  age.  What  if  botl- 
succeeded?  What  if  the  two  storm-clouds  swep 
across  England,  each  on  its  own  path,  and  met  ir 
the  midst,  to  hurl  their  lightnings  into  each  other! 
A  fight  between  William  of  Normandy  and  Harolt 
of  Norway,  on  some  moorland  in  Mercia — that  woul< 
be  a  battle  of  giants  ;  a  sight  at  which  Odin  and 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  221 

gfods  of  Valhalla  would  rise  from  their  seats,  and 
throw  away  the  mead-horn,  to  stare  down  on  the 
deeds  of  heroes  scarcely  less  mighty  than  themselves. 
Would  that  neither  might  win  !  Would  that  they 
would  destroy  and  devour,  till  there  was  none  left 
of  Frenchmen  or  of  Norwegians  ! 

So  sung  Hereward,  after  his  heathen  fashion  :  and 
his  housecarles  applauded  the  song.  But  Torfrida 
shuddered. 

"  And  what  will  become  of  the  poor  English  in  the 
meantime?  " 

"They  have  brought  it  on  themselves,"  said 
Hereward  bitterly.  "  Instead  of  giving  the  crown 
to  the  man  who  should  have  had  it — to  Sweyn  of 
Denmark — they  let  Godwin  put  it  on  the  head  of  a 
drivelling  monk  :  and  as  they  sowed,  so  will  they 
reap." 

But  Hereward's  own  soul  was  black  within  him. 
To  see  these  mighty  events  passing,  as  it  were, 
within  reach  of  his  hand — and  he  unable  to  take 
his  share  in  them-»-For  what  share  could  he  take? 
That  of  Tosli  Godwinsson  against  his  own  nephews? 
That  of  Harold  Godwinsson,  the  usurper?  That  of 
the  tanner's  grandson  against  any  man?  Ah,  that 
he  had  been  in  England  !  Ah,  that  he  had  been, 
where  he  might  have  been,  where  he  ought  to  have 
been,  but  for  his  own  folly — high  in  power  in  his 
native  land ;  perhaps  a  great  earl  ;  perhaps  com- 
mander of  all  the  armies  of  the  Danelagh.  And 
bitterly  he  cursed  his  youthful  sins,  as  he  rode  to 
and  fro  almost  daily  to  the  port,  asking  for  news, 
and  getting  often  only  too  much. 

For  now  came  news  that  the  Norsemen  had 
landed  in  Humber  ;  that  Edwin  and  Morcar  were 
beaten  at  York  ;  that  Hardraade  and  Tosti  were 
masters  of  the  North. 

And  with  that,  news  that  by  the  virtue  of  the 
relics  of  St.  Valeri,  which  had  been  brought  out  of 


222  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

their  shrine  to  frighten  the  demons  of  the  storm,  a 
by  the  intercession  of  the  blessed  St.  Michael,  patron 
of  Normandy,  the  winds  had  changed,  and  William's 
whole  armament  had  crossed  the  Channel,  landed 
upon  an  undefended  shore,  and  fortified  themselves 
at  Pevensey  and  Hastings. 

And  then  followed  a  fortnight  of  silence  and  tortur- 
ing suspense. 

Hereward  could  hardly  eat,  drink,  sleep,  or  speak. 
Heanswered  Torfrida's  consolations  curtlyand  angrily, 
till  she  betook  herself  to  silent  caresses,  as  to  a  sick 
animal.  But  she  loved  him  all  the  better  for  his 
sullenness  ;  for  it  showed  that  his  English  heart  was 
wakening  again,  sound  and  strong. 

At  last  news  came.  He  was  down  as  usual,  at  the 
port.  A  ship  had  just  come  up  the  estuary.  A  man 
just  landed  stood  on  the  beach,  gesticulating,  and 
calling  in  an  unknown  tongue  to  the  bystanders,  who 
laughed  at  him,  and  seemed  inclined  to  misuse  him. 

Hereward  galloped  down  the  beach. 

"Out  of  the  way,  villains  1  Why  man,  you  are  a 
Norseman  I " 

"Norseman  am  I,  Jarl ;  Thord  Gunlaugsson  is  my 
name ;  and  news  I  bring  for  the  Countess  Judith  (as 
the  French  call  her)  that  shall  turn  her  golden  hair  to 
snow  : — yea,  and  all  fair  lasses'  hair  from  Lindesness 
to  Loffoden." 

"Is  the  Earl  dead?" 

"And  Harold  Sigurdsson." 

Hereward  sat  silent,  appalled.  For  Tosti  he  cared 
not.  But  Harold  Sigurdsson,  Harold  Hardraade, 
Harold  the  Viking,  Harold  the  Varanger,  Harold  the 
Lionslayer,  Harold  of  Constantinople,  the  bravest 
among  champions,  the  wisest  among  kings,  the 
cunningest  among  minstrels,  the  darling  of  the 
Vikings  of  the  north  ;  the  one  man  whom  Here- 
ward had  taken  for  his  pattern  and  his  ideal,  the 
one  man  under  whose  banner  he  would  have  been 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  223 

proud   to    fight — the  earth  seemed  empty,  if  Harold 
Hardraade  were  gone. 

"  Thord  Gunlaugsson,"  cried  he,  at  last,  "or 
whatever  be  thy  name,  if  them  hast  lied  to  me,  I 
will  draw  thee  with  wild  horses." 

"  Would  God  that  I  did  lie  !  I  saw  him  fall  with 
an  arrow  through  his  throat.  Then  Jarl  Tosti  took 
the  Land-ravager  and  held  it  up  till  he  died.  Then 
Eystein  Orre  took  it,  coming  up  hot  from  the  ships. 
And  then  he  died  likewise.  Then  they  all  died.  We 
would  take  no  quarter.  We  threw  off  our  mail,  and 
fought  baresark,  till  all  were  dead  together."  x 

"  How  earnest  thou,  then,  hither  ?  " 

"  Styrkar  the  marshal  escaped  in  the  night,  and  I 
with  him,  and  a  few  more.  And  Styrkar  bade  me 
bring  the  news  to  Flanders,  to  the  Countess,  while  he 
took  it  to  Olaf  Haroldsson,  who  lay  off  in  the  ships." 

"And  thou  shalt  take  it.  Martin!  get  this  man 
a  horse.  A  horse,  ye  villains,  and  a  good  one,  on 
your  lives  !  " 

"And  Tosti  is  dead?" 

"Dead  like  a  hero.  Harold  offered  him  quarter — 
offered  him  his  earldom,  they  say  :  even  in  the  midst 
of  battle  :  but  he  would  not  take  it.  He  said  he  was 
the  Sigurdsson's  man  now,  and  true  man  he  would  be." 

"Harold  offered  him? — What  art  babbling  at? 
Who  fought  you  ?  " 

"  Harold  Godwinsson,  the  king." 

"Where?" 

"At  Stanford  Brigg,  by  York  Town." 

"  Harold  Godwinsson  slew  Harold  Sig.urdsson  ? 
After  this  wolves  may  eat  lions  I  " 

"  The  Godwinsson  is  a  gallant  fighter  and  a  wise 
general,  or  I  had  not  been  here  now." 

"Get  on  thy  horse,  man  !  "  said  he,  scornfully  and 
impatiently,  "  and  gallop,  if  thou  canst." 

1  For  the  details  of  this  battle,  see  Snorro  Sturleson  ;  or  the  admirable  de- 
scription in  B".l\ver'«  Harold. 


224  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

"  I  have  ridden  many  a  mile  in  Ireland,  Earl,  and 
have  not  forgotten  my  seat." 

"Thou  hast,  hast  thou  ?"  said  Martin  ;  "thou  art 
Thord  Gunlaugsson  of  Waterford." 

"  That  am  I.     How  kno\vest  thou  me,  man  ?  " 

"1  am  of  Waterford.  Thou  hadst  a  slave  lass, 
once,  I  think  ;  Mew  :  they  called  her  Mew,  her  skin  it 
was  so  white." 

"What's  that  to  thee?"  asked  Thord,  turning  on 
him  savagely. 

"  I  meant  no  harm.  I  saw  her  at  Waterford  when 
I  was  a  boy,  and  thought  her  a  fair  lass  enough, 
that  is  all." 

And  Martin  dropped  into  the  rear. 

As  they  rode  side  by  side,  Hereward  got  more 
details  of  the  fight. 

"  I  knew  it  would  fall  out  so.  I  foretold  it  !  "  said 
Thord.  "  I  had  a  dream.  I  saw  us  come  to  English 
land,  and  fight ;  and  I  saw  the  banners  floating. 
And  before  the  English  army  was  a  great  witchwife, 
and  rode  upon  a  wolf,  and  he  had  a  corpse  in  his 
bloody  jaws.  And  when  he  had  eaten  one  up,  she 
threw  him  another,  till  he  had  swallowed  all." 

"Did  she  throw  him  thine?"  asked  Martin,  who 
ran  holding  by  the  stirrup. 

"That  did  she,  and  eaten  I  saw  myself.  Yet  here 
I  am  alive." 

"Then  thy  dreams  were  naught." 

"  I  do  not  know  that.     The  wolf  may  have  me  yet." 

"  I  fear  thou  art  fey."1 

"  What  the  devil  is  that  to  thee  if  I  be?" 

"Naught.  But  be  comforted.  I  am  a  necro- 
mancer ;  and  this  I  know  by  my  art,  that  the 
weapon  that  will  slay  thee  was  never  forged  in 
Flanders  here." 

"There  was  another  man  had  a  dream,"  said 
Thord,  turning  from  Martin  angrily.  "  He  was 

1  Prophesying  his  own  death  ;  literally  '  '  fated." 


HEREWARD  THE    WAKE.  225 

standing1  in  the  king's  ship,  and  he  saw  a  great 
vvitchwife  with  a  fork  and  a  trough  stand  on  the 
island.  And  he  saw  a  fowl  on  every  ship's  stem, 
a  raven,  or  else  an  eagle ;  and  he  heard  the 
witchwife  sing  an  evil  song."1 

By  this  time  they  were  in  St.  Omer. 

Hereward  rode  straight  to  the  Countess  Judith's 
house.  He  never  had  entered  it  yet ;  and  was 
likely  to  be  attacked  if  he  entered  it  now.  But 
when  the  door  was  opened,  he  thrust  in  with  so 
earnest  and  sad  a  face  that  the  servants  let  him 
pass,  though  not  without  growling  and  motions 
as  of  getting  their  weapons. 

"I  come  in  peace,  my  men,  I  come  in  peace: 
this  is  no  time  for  brawls.  Where  is  the  steward, 
or  one  of  the  countess's  ladies  ? — Tell  her,  madam, 
that  Hereward  waits  her  commands,  and  entreats 
her,  in  the  name  of  St.  Mary  and  all  Saints,  to 
vouchsafe  him  one  word  in  private." 

The  lady  hurried  into  the  bower.  The  next 
moment  Judith  hurried  out  into  the  hall,  her  fair 
face  blanched,  her  fair  eyes  wide  with  terror. 

Hereward  fell  on  his  knee. 

"What  is  this?  It  must  be  bad  news  if  you 
bring  it." 

"Madam,  the  grave  covers  all  feuds.  Earl  Tosti 
was  a  very  valiant  hero  ;  and  would  to  God  that  we 
had  been  friends  !  " 

She  did  not  hear  the  end  of  the  sentence  :  but  fell 
back  with  a  shriek  into  the  women's  arms. 

Hereward  told  them  all  that  they  needed  to 
know  of  that  fratricidal  strife ;  and  then  to  Thord 
Gunlaugsson — 

"  Have  you  any  token  that  this  is  true.  Mind 
what  I  warned  you,  if  you  lied  !  " 

"This  have  I,  Jarl  and  ladies,"  and  he  drew  from 
his  bosom  a  reliquary.  "  Ulf  the  marshal  took  this 

1  For  these  two  dreams,  see  Snorro  Sturleson. 
H.W.  H 


226  HERE  WARD   THE    WAKE. 

off  the  Jarl's  neck,  and  bade  me  give  it  to  none  but 
his  lady.  Therefore,  with  your  pardon,  Sir  Jarl, 
I  did  not  tell  you  that  I  had  it,  not  knowing 
whether  you  were  an  honest  man." 

"Thou  hast  done  well;  and  an  honest  man  thou 
shalt  find  me,  though  no  Jarl  as  yet.  Come  home, 
and  I  will  feed  thee  at  my  own  table  ;  for  I  have 
been  a  sea-rover  and  a  Viking-  myself." 

They  left  the  reliquary  with  the  ladies,  and  went. 

"  See  to  this  good  man,  Martin." 

"  That  will  I,  as  the  apple  of  my  eye." 

And  Hereward  went  into  Torfrida's  room. 

"  I  have  news,  news  ! " 

44  So  have  I." 

"  Harold  Hardraade  is  slain,  and  Tosti  too  ! " 

"Where?  how?" 

"  Harold  Godwinsson  slew  them  by  York." 

"Brother  has  slain  brother?  O  God  that  died 
on  cross !  "  murmured  Torfrida,  "  when  will  men 
look  to  Thee,  and  have  mercy  on  their  own  souls  ? 
But  Hereward — I  have  news — news  more  terrible  by 
far.  It  came  an  hour  ago.  I  have  been  dreading 
your  coming  back." 

"  Say  on.  If  Harold  Hardraade  is  dead,  no  worse 
can  happen." 

"  But  Harold  Godwinsson  is  dead  ! " 

"Dead!  Who  next?  William  of  Normandy? 
The  world  seems  coming  to  an  end,  as  the  monks 
say  it  will  soon."  ' 

"A  great  battle  has  been  fought  at  a  place  they 
call  Heathfield." 

"Close  by  Hastings?  Close  to  the  landing-place? 
Harold  must  have  flown  thither  back  from  York. 
What  a  captain  the  man  is,  after  all ! " 

"Was.  He  is  dead,  and  all  the  Godwinssons ; 
and  England  lost." 

'  There  was  a  general  rumour  abroad  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand ; 
for  the  "one  thousand  years"  of  prophecy  had  expired. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  227 

If  Torfrida  had  feared  the  effect  of  her  news,  her 
heart  was  lightened  at  once  as  Hereward  answered 
haughtily, — 

"  England  lost  ?  Sussex  is  not  England,  nor 
Wessex  either,  any  more  than  Harold  was  king 
thereof.  England  lost  ?  Let  the  tanner  try  to  cross 
the  Watling  Street,  and  he  will  find  out  that  he 
has  another  stamp  of  Englishman  to  deal  with." 

"  Hereward,  Hereward,  do  not  be  unjust  to  the 
dead.  Men  say  —  the  Normans  say  —  that  they 
fought  like  heroes." 

"  I  never  doubted  that :  but  it  makes  me  mad — 
as  it  does  all  Eastern  and  Northern  men — to  hear 
these  Wessex  churls  and  Godwinssons  calling 
themselves  all  England." 

Torfrida  shook  her  head.  To  her,  as  to  most 
foreigners,  Wessex  and  the  south-east  counties  were 
England  ;  the  most  civilised  ;  the  most  French  ;  the 
seat  of  royalty  ;  having  all  the  prestige  of  law,  and 
order,  and  wealth.  And  she  was  shrewd  enough 
to  see,  that  as  it  was  the  part  of  England  which 
had  most  sympathy  with  French  civilisation,  it  was 
the  very  part  where  the  Frenchman  could  most 
easily  gain  and  keep  his  hold.  The  event  proved 
that  Torfrida  was  right :  but  all  she  said  was,  "  It 
is  dangerously  near  to  France,  at  least." 

"It  is  that.  I  would  sooner  see  100,000  French 
north  of  the  Humber,  than  10,000  in  Kent  and 
Sussex,  where  he  can  hurry  over  supplies  and  men 
every  week.  It  is  the  starting-point  for  him,  if  he 
means  to  conquer  England  piece-meal." 

"And  he  does." 

"  And  he  shall  not  ! "  and  Hereward  started  up, 
and  walked  to  and  fro.  "  If  all  the  Godwinssons 
be  dead,  there  are  Leofricssons  left,  I  trust,  and 
Siward's  kin,  and  the  Gospatrics  in  Northumbria. 
Ah?  Where  were  my  nephews  in  the  battle?  Not 
killed  too,  I  trust?" 


228  HEREWARD    THE   WAKE. 

"They  were  not  in  the  battle." 

"Not  with  their  new  brother-in-law  ?  Much  he  has 
gained  by  throwing  away  the  Swan-neck,  like  a  base 
traitor  as  he  was,  and  marrying  my  pretty  niece.  But 
where  were  they  ?  " 

"  No  man  knows  clearly.  They  followed  him  down 
as  far  as  London,  and  then  lingered  about  the  city, 
meaning  no  man  can  tell  what :  but  we  shall  hear — 
and  I  fear  hear  too  much — before  a  week  is  over." 

"  Heavens  !  this  is  madness,  indeed.  This  is  the 
way  to  be  eaten  up  one  by  one.  Neither  to  do  the 
thing,  nor  leave  it  alone.  If  I  had  been  there  !  If 
I  had  been  there " 

"  You  would  have  saved  England,  my  hero  !  "  and 
Torfrida  believed  her  own  words. 

"  I  don't  say  that.  Besides,  I  say  that  England  is 
not  lost.  But  there  were  but  two  things  to  do : 
either  to  have  sent  to  William  at  once,  and  offered 
him  the  crown,  if  he  would  but  guarantee  the  Danish 
laws  and  liberties  to  all  north  of  the  Watling  Street ; 
and  if  he  would,  fall  on  the  Godwinssons  themselves, 
by  fair  means  or  foul,  and  send  their  heads  to 
William. " 

"Or  what?" 

"  Or  have  marched  down  after  him,  with  every  man 
they  could  muster,  and  thrown  themselves  on  the 
Frenchman's  flank  in  the  battle — or  between  him  and 
the  sea,  cutting  him  off  from  France — or — Oh,  that 
I  had  but  been  there,  what  things  could  I  have  done  ! 
— And  now  these  two  wretched  boys  have  fooled  away 
their  only  chance " 

"Some  say  that  they  hoped  for  the  crown  them- 
selves." 

"Which?  Not  both?  Vain  babies  !"  and  Here- 
ward  laughed  bitterly.  "I  suppose  one  will  murder 
the  other  next,  in  order  to  make  himself  the  stronger 
by  being  the  sole  rival  to  the  tanner.  The  midden 
cock  sole  rival  to  the  eag-le  !  Boy  Waltheof  will  set 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  229 

up  his  claim  next,  I  presume,  as  Siward's  son  ;  and 
then  Gospatric,  as  Ethelred  Evil-Counsel's  great- 
grandson  ;  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth,  till  they  all  eat 
each  other  up,  and  the  tanner's  grandson  eats  the 
last.  What  care  I?  Tell  me  about  the  battle,  my 
lady,  if  you  know  aught.  That  is  more  to  my  way 
than  their  statecraft." 

And  Torfrida  told  him  all  she  knew  of  the  great 
fight  on  Heathfield  Down,  which  men  call  Senlac, 
and  the  battle  of  Hastings.  And  as  she  told  it,  in 
her  wild  eloquent  fashion,  Hereward's  face  reddened, 
and  his  eyes  kindled.  And  when  she  told  of  the  last 
struggle  round  the  Dragon  standard  ;  T  of  Harold's 
mighty  figure  in  the  front  of  all,  hewing  with  his 
great  double-headed  axe,  and  then  rolling  in  gore  and 
agony,  an  arrow  in  his  eyeball  ;  of  the  last  rally  of 
the  men  of  Kent;  of  Gurth,  the  last  defender  of  the 
standard,  falling  by  William's  sword  ;  of  the  standard 
hurled  to  the  ground,  and  the  Popish  Gonfanon  planted 
in  its  place — Then  Hereward's  eyes,  for  the  first  and 
last  time  for  many  a  year,  were  flushed  with  noble 
tears;  and  springing  up,  he  cried,  "Honour  to  the 
Godwinssons !  Honour  to  the  Southern  men  ! 
Honour  to  all  true  English  hearts  !  Why  was  I  not 
there,  to  go  with  them  to  Valhalla  ?  " 

Torfrida  caught  him  round  the  neck.  "  Because 
you  are  here,  my  hero,  to  free  your  country  from  her 
tyrants,  and  win  yourself  immortal  fame." 

"Fool  that  I  am,  I  verily  believe  I  am  crying." 

"Those  tears,"  said  she,  as  she  kissed  them  away, 
"  are  more  precious  to  Torfrida  than  the  spoils  of  a 
hundred  fights,  for  they  tell  me  that  Hereward  still 
loves  his  country  ;  still  honours  virtue,  even  in  a  foe." 

1  I  have  dared  to  differ  Iron  the  excellent  authorities  who  say  that  the 
standard  was  that  of  a  Fighting  Man  :  because  the  Bayeux  Tapestry  represents 
the  last  struggle  as  in  front  of  a  Dragon  standard,  which  must  be— as  is  to  be 
expected — the  old  standard  of  Wessex,  the  standard  of  English  Royalty.  That 
Harold  had  also  a  Fighting  Man  standard,  arid  that  it  was  sent  by  William  to 
the  Pope,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt.  But  if  the  Bayeux  Tapestry  be  correct, 
the  fury  of  the  fight  for  the  standard  would  be  explained.  It  would  bs  a  fight 
for  the  very  symbol  of  K:r. j  Edward's  dynasty. 


230  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

And  thus  Torfrida- — whether  from  a  woman's  senti- 
ment of  pity,  or  from  a  woman's  instinctive  abhorrence 
of  villainy  and  wrong,  had  become  there  and  then  an 
Englishwoman  of  the  English,  as  she  proved  by 
strange  deeds  and  sufferings  for  many  a  year. 

"  Where  is  that  Norseman,  Martin?  "  asked  Here- 
ward  that  night  ere  he  went  to  bed.  "  I  want  to 
hear  more  of  poor  Hardraade." 

"  You  can't  speak  to  him  now,  master.  He  is 
sound  asleep  this  two  hours;  and  warm  enough, 
I  will  warrant." 

"Where?  " 

"  In  the  great  green  bed  with  blue  curtains,  just 
above  the  kitchen." 

"  What  nonsense  is  this?  " 

"  The  bed  where  you  and  I  shall  lie  some  day; 
and  the  kitchen  to  which  we  shall  be  sent  down  to 
turn  our  own  spits,  unless  we  mend  our  manners 
mightily." 

Hereward  looked  at  the  man.  Madness  glared  un- 
mistakably in  his  eyes. 

"  You  have  killed  him  !  " 

"  And  buried  him,  cheating  the  priests." 

"  Traitor  !  "  cried  Hereward,  seizing  him. 

"  Take  your  hands  off  my  throat,  master.  He  was 
only  my  father." 

Hereward  stood  shocked  and  puzzled.  After  all, 
the  man  was  No-man's-man  and  would  not  be 
missed;  and  Martin  Lightfoot,  letting  alone  liis 
madness,  was  as  a  third  hand  and  foot  to  him  all 
day  long. 

So  all  he  said  was,  "  I  hope  you  have  buried  him 
well  and  safely?  " 

"  You  may  walk  your  bloodhound  over  his  grave 
to-morrow  without  finding  him." 

And  where  he  lay,  Hereward  never  knew.  But  from 
that  night  Martin  got  a  trick  of  stroking  and  patting 
his  little  axe,  and  talking  to  it  as  if  it  had  been  alive 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  231 

CHAPTER   XVI 1 1. 

HOW  EARL  <JODVVIN'S   WIDOW   CAME   TO   ST.    OMER. 

IT  would  be  vain  to  attempt  even  a  sketch  of  the 
reports  which  came  to  Flanders  from  England  during 
the  next  two  years  ;  or  of  the  conversations  which 
ensued  thereon  between  Baldwin  and  his  courtiers, 
and  between  Hereward  and  Torfrida.  Two  reports 
out  of  three  were  doubtless  false  ;  and  two  conversa- 
tions out  of  three  founded  on  those  false  reports. 

It  is  best,  therefore,  to  interrupt  the  thread  of  the 
story,  by  some  small  sketch  of  the  state  of  England 
•after  the  battle  of  Hastings  ;  that  so  we  may  at 
least  guess  at  the  tenor  of  Hereward  and  Torfrida's 
counsels. 

William  had,  as  yet,  conquered  little  more  than 
the  south  of  England  :  hardly  indeed  all  that ;  for 
Herefordshire,  Worcestershire,  and  the  neighbouring 
parts,  which  had  belonged  to  Sweyn,  Harold's  brother, 
were  still  insecure  ",  and  the  noble  old  city  of  Exeter, 
confident  in  her  Roman  walls,  did  not  yield  till  two 
years  after,  in  A.D.  1068. 

North  of  his  conquered  territory,  Mercia  stretched 
almost  across  England.,  from  Chester  to  the  Wash, 
governed  by  Edwin  and  Morcar.  Edwin  called  him- 
self Earl  of  Mercia,  and  held  the  Danish  burghs.  On 
the  extreme  north-west,  the  Roman  city  of  Chester 
was  his  ;  while  on  the  extreme  south-east  (as  Domes- 
day Book  testifies),  Morcar  still  held  large  lands  round 
Bourne,  and  throughout  the  south  of  Lincolnshire, 
besides  calling  himself  the  Ear!  of  Northumbria.  The 
young  men  seemed  the  darlings  of  the  half  Danish 
Northmen.  Chester,  Coventry,  Derby,  Nottingham, 
Leicester,  Stamford,  a  chain  of  fortified  towns  stretch- 
ing across  England,  were  at  their  command  ;  Blethyn, 
prince  of  North  Wales,  w;is  their  nephew. 


232  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

Northumbria,  likewise,  was  not  yet  in  William's 
hands.  Indeed  it  was  in  no  man's  hands,  since  the 
free  Danes  north  of  the  Humber  had  expelled  Tosti, 
putting  Morcar  in  his  place.  Morcar,  instead  of 
residing  in  his  earldom  of  Northumbria,  had  made 
one  Oswulf  his  deputy  :  but  he  had  rivals  enough. 
There  was  Gospatric,  claiming  through  his  grand- 
father Uchtred,  and  strong  in  the  protection  of  his 
cousin  Malcolm  king  of  Scotland  ;  there  was  young 
Waltheof,  "the  forest  thief" — or  rather,  perhaps, 
"  the  thief  of  slaughter,"  who  had  been  born  to 
Siward  Biorn  in  his  old  age,  just  after  the  battle  of 
Dunsinane  ;  a  fine  and  gallant  young  man,  destined 
to  a  swift  and  sad  end. 

William  sent  to  the  Northumbrians  one  Copsi,  a 
thane  of  mark  and  worth,  as  his  procurator,  to  expel 
Oswulf.  Oswulf  and  the  land  folk  answered  by 
killing  Copsi,  and  doing  every  man  that  which  was 
right  in  his  own  eyes. 

William  determined  to  propitiate  the  young  earls. 
Perhaps  he  intended  to  govern  the  centre  and  north 
of  England  through  them,  as  feudal  vassals  ;  and 
hoped  meanwhile  to  pay  his  Norman  conquerors 
sufficiently  out  of  the  forfeited  lands  of  Harold,  and 
those  who  had  fought  by  his  side  at  Hastings.  It 
was  not  his  policy  to  make  himself,  much  less  to  call 
himself,  the  conqueror  of  England.  He  claimed  to  be 
its  legitimate  sovereign,  deriving  from  his  cousin 
Edward  the  Confessor  ;  and  whosoever  would  acknow- 
ledge him  as  such,  had  neither  right  or  cause  to  fear. 
Therefore  he  sent  for  the  young  earls.  He  courted 
Waltheof,  and  more,  really  loved  him.  He  promised 
Edwin  his  daughter  in  marriage.  Some  say  it  was 
Constance,  afterwards  married  to  Alan  Fergant,  of 
Brittany  :  but  it  may  also  have  been  the  beautiful 
Adelaide,  who,  none  knew  why,  early  gave  up  the 
world,  and  died  in  a  convent.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the 
two  young  people  saw  each,  and  loved  each  other  at 


HEREWARD  THE    WAKE.  233 

Rouen,  whither  William  took  Waltheof,  Edwin,  and 
his  brother  ;  as  honoured  guests  in  name  ;  in  reality 
as  hostages  likewise. 

With  the  same  rational  and  prudent  policy,  William 
respected  the  fallen  royal  families,  both  of  Harold  and 
of  Edward  ;  at  least,  he  warred  not  against  women  ; 
and  the  wealth  and  influence  of  the  great  English 
ladies  was  enormous.  Edith,  sister  of  Harold,  and 
widow  of  the  Confessor,  lived  in  wealth  and  honour 
at  Winchester.  Gyda,  Harold's  mother,  retained 
Exeter  and  her  land.  Aldytha,1  or  Elfgiva,  widow  of 
Harold,  lived  rich  and  safe  in  Chester.  Godiva  the 
Countess  owned,  so  antiquarians  say,  manors  from 
Cheshire  to  Lincolnshire,  which  would  be  now  yearly 
worth  the  income  of  a  great  duke.  Agatha  the 
Hungarian,  widow  of  Edmund  the  outlaw,  dwelt  at 
Romsey  in  Hampshire,  under  William's  care.  Her 
son  Edgar  Etheling,  the  rightful  heir  of  England,  was 
treated  by  William  not  only  with  courtesy,  but  with 
affection  ;  and  allowed  to  rebel,  when  he  did  rebel, 
with  impunity.  For  the  descendant  of  Rollo  the 
heathen  Viking,  had  become  a  civilised  chivalrous 
Christian  knight.  His  mighty  forefather  would  have 
split  the  Etheling's  skull  with  his  own  axe.  A  Frank 
king  would  have  shaved  the  young  man's  head,  and 
immured  him  in  a  monastery.  An  eastern  sultan 
would  have  thrust  out  his  eyes,  or  strangled  him  at 
once.  But  William,  however  cruel,  however  un- 
scrupulous, had  a  knightly  heart,  and  somewhat  of  a 
Christian  conscience  ;  and  his  conduct  to  his  only 
lawful  rival  is  a  noble  trait  amid  many  sins. 

So  far  all  went  well,  till  William  went  back  to 
France  ;  to  be  likened,  not  as  his  ancestors,  to  the 
gods  of  Valhalla,  or  the  barbarous  and  destroying 
Vikings  of  mythic  ages,  but  to  Caesar,  Pompey, 
Vespasian,  and  the  civilised  and  civilising  heroes  of 
classic  Rome. 

'  See  her  history,  told,  as  none  other  can  tell  it,  in  Bulwer's  Harold, 


234  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

But  while  he  sat  at  the  Easter  Feast  at  Fe'camp, 
displaying-  to  Franks,  Flemings,  and  Bretons,  as  well 
as  to  his  own  Normans,  the  treasures  of  Edward's 
palace  at  Westminster,  and  "  more  English  wealth 
than  could  be  found  in  the  whole  estate  of  Gaul  "  ; 
while  he  sat  there  in  his  glory,  with  his  young  dupes, 
Edwin,  Morcar,  and  Waltheof,  by  his  side  ;  having 
sent  Harold's  banner  in  triumph  to  the  Pope,  as  a 
token  that  he  had  conquered  the  church  as  well  as 
the  nation  of  England,  and  having  founded  abbeys  as 
thank-offerings  to  Him  who  had  seemed  to  prosper 
him  in  his  great  crime  :  at  that  very  hour  the  hand- 
writing was  on  the  wall,  unseen  by  man  ;  and  he,  and 
his  policy,  and  his  race,  were  weighed  in  the  balance, 
and  found  wanting". 

For  now  broke  out  in  England  that  wrong-doing 
which  endured  as  long  as  she  was  a  mere  appanage 
and  foreign  farm  of  Norman  kings,  whose  hearts  and 
homes  were  across  the  seas  in  France.  Fitz-Osbern, 
and  Odo  the  warrior-prelate,  William's  half-brother, 
had  been  left  as  his  regents  in  England.  Little  do 
they  seem  to  have  cared  for  William's  promise  to  the 
English  people  that  they  were  to  be  ruled  still  by  the 
laws  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  and  that  where  a  grant 
of  land  was  made  to  a  Norman  he  was  to  hold  it  as 
the  Englishman  had  done  before  him,  with  no  heavier 
burdens  on  himself,  but  with  no  heavier  burdens  on 
the  poor  folk  who  tilled  the  land  for  him.  Oppression 
began,  lawlessness,  and  violence  ;  men  were  ill-treated 
on  the  highways  ;  and  women — what  was  worse — in 
their  own  homes  ;  and  the  regents  abetted  the  ill- 
doers.  "  It  seems,"  says  a  most  impartial  historian,1 
"  as  if  the  Normans,  released  from  all  authority,  all 
restraint,  all  fear  of  retaliation,  determined  to  reduce 
the  English  nation  to  servitude,  and  drive  them  to 
despair." 

In  the  latter  attempt  they  succeeded  but  too  soon  ; 

t  The  late  Sir  F.  Pal  grave. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  235 

in  the  former,  they  succeeded  at  last  :  but  they  paid 
dearly  for  their  success. 

Hot  young  Englishmen  began  to  emigrate.  Some 
went  to  the  court  of  Constantinople,  to  join  the  Va- 
ranger  guard,  and  have  their  chance  of  a  Polotaswarf 
like  Harold  Hardraade.  Some  went  to  Scotland 
to  Malcolm  Canmore,  and  brooded  over  return  and 
revenge.  But  Harold's  sons  went  to  their  father's 
cousin,  Ulfsson  of  Denmark,  and  called  on  him  to 
come  and  reconquer  England  in  the  name  of  his  uncle 
Canute  the  Great;  and  many  an  Englishman  went 
with  them. 

These  things  Gospatric  watched,  as  earl  (so  far  as 
he  could  make  any  one  obey  him  in  the  utter  sub- 
version of  all  order)  of  the  lands  between  Forth  and 
Tyne.  And  he  determined  to  flee,  ere  evil  befell  him, 
to  his  cousin  Malcolm  Canmore,  taking  with  him 
Marlesweyn  of  Lincolnshire,  who  had  fought,  it  is 
said,  by  Harold's  side  at  Hastings,  and  young 
Waltheof  of  York.  But,  moreover,  having  a  head, 
and  being,  indeed,  as  his  final  success  showed,  a  man 
of  ability  and  courage,  he  determined  on  a  stroke  of 
policy,  which  had  incalculable  after-effects  on  the 
history  of  Scotland.  He  persuaded  Agatha  the 
Hungarian,  Margaret  and  Christina  her  daughters, 
and  Edgar  the  Etheling  himself,  to  flee  with  him  to 
Scotland.  How  he  contrived  to  send  them  messages 
to  Romsey,  far  south  in  Hampshire;  how  they 
contrived  to  escape  to  the  Humber,  and  thence  up  to 
the  Forth;  this  is  a  romance  in  itself,  of  which  the 
chroniclers  have  left  hardly  a  hint.  But  the  thing 
was  done;  and  at  St.  Margaret's  Hope,  as  tradition 
tells,  the  Scottish  king  met,  and  claimed  as  his 
unwilling  bride,  that  fair  and  holy  maiden  who  was 
destined  to  soften  his  fierce  passions,  to  civilise  and 
purify  his  people,  and  to  become — if  all  had  their  just 
dues — the  true  patron  saint  of  Scotland. 

Malcom  Canmore  promised  a  mighty  army;   Sweyn 


236  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

a  mighty  fleet.  And  meanwhile,  Eustace  of  Boulogne, 
the  Confessor's  brother-in-law,  himself  a  Norman, 
rebelled  at  the  head  of  the  down-trodden  men  of 
Kent ;  and  the  Welshmen  were  harrying  Hereford- 
shire with  fire  and  sword,  in  revenge  for  Norman 
ravages. 

But  as  yet  the  storm  did  not  burst.  William 
returned,  and  with  him  something  like  order.  He 
conquered  Exeter  ;  he  destroyed  churches  and  towns 
to  make  his  New  Forest.  He  brought  over  his 
Queen  Matilda  with  pomp  and  great  glory  ;  and  with 
her,  the  Bayeux  Tapestry  which  she  had  wrought  with 
her  own  hands  ;  and  meanwhile  Sweyn  Ulfsson  was 
too  busy  threatening  Olaf  Haroldsson,  the  new  king 
of  Norway,  to  sail  for  England  ;  and  the  sons  of  King 
Harold  of  England  had  to  seek  help  from  the  Irish 
Danes  ;  and,  ravaging  the  country  round  Bristol,  be 
beaten  off  by  the  valiant  burghers  with  heavy  loss. 

So  the  storm  did  not  burst ;  and  need  not  have 
burst,  it  may  be,  at  all,  had  William  kept  his  plighted 
word.  But  he  would  not  give  his  fair  daughter  to 
Edwin.  His  Norman  nobles,  doubtless,  looked  upon 
such  an  alliance  as  debasing  to  a  civilised  lady.  In 
their  eyes,  the  Englishman  was  a  barbarian  ;  and 
though  the  Norman  might  well  marry  the  English- 
woman, if  she  had  beauty  or  wealth,  it  was  a 
dangerous  precedent  to  allow  the  Englishman  to 
marry  the  Norman  woman,  and  that  woman  a 
princess.  Beside,  there  were  those  who  coveted 
Edwin's  broad  lands ;  Roger  de  Montgomery,  who 
already  (it  is  probable)  held  part  of  them  as  Earl  of 
Shrewsbury,  had  no  wish  to  see  Edwin  the  son-in-law 
of  his  sovereign.  Be  the  cause  what  it  may,  William 
faltered,  and  refused  ;  and  Edwin  and  Morcar  left  the 
Court  of  Westminster  in  wrath.  Waltheof  followed 
them,  having  discovered — what  he  was  weak  enough 
continually  to  forget  again — the  treachery  of  the 
Norman.  The  young  earls  went  off — one  midlandward, 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  237 

one  northward.  The  people  saw  their  wrongs  in 
those  of  their  earls,  and  the  rebellion  burst  forth  at 
once  ;  the  Welsh  under  Blethyn,  and  the  Cumbrians 
under  Malcolm  and  Donaldbain,  giving  their  help  in 
the  struggle. 

It  was  the  year  1069  ;  a  more  evil  year  for  England 
than  even  the  year  of  Hastings. 

The  rebellion  was  crushed  in  a  few  months.  The 
great  general  marched  steadily  north,  taking  the 
boroughs  one  by  one,  storming,  burning,  sometimes, 
whole  towns,  massacring  or  mutilating  young  and 
old,  and  leaving,  as  he  went  on,  a  new  portent,  a 
Norman  donjon — till  then  all  but  unseen  in  England 
— as  a  place  of  safety  for  his  garrisons.  At  Oxford 
(sacked  horribly,  and  all  but  destroyed),  at  Warwick 
(destroyed  utterly),  at  Nottingham,  at  Stafford,  at 
Shrewsbury,  at  Cambridge,  on  the  huge  barrow 
which  overhangs  the  fen  ;  and  at  York  itself,  which 
had  opened  its  gates,  trembling,  to  the  great  Norman 
strategist — at  each  doomed  borough  rose  a  castle, 
with  its  tall  square  tower  within,  its  bailey  around, 
and  all  the  appliances  of  that  ancient  Roman  science 
of  fortification,  of  which  the  Danes,  as  well  as  the 
Saxons,  knew  nothing.  Their  struggle  had  only 
helped  to  tighten  their  bonds ;  and  what  wonder  ? 
There  was  among  them  neither  unity,  nor  plan,  nor 
governing  mind  and  will.  Hereward's  words  had 
come  true.  The  only  man,  save  Gospatric,  who  had 
a  head  in  England,  was  Harold  Godwinsson  :  and  he 
lay  in  Waltham  Abbey,  while  the  monks  sang  masses 
for  his  soul. 

Edwin,  Morcar,  and  Waltheof  trembled  before  a 
genius  superior  to  their  own  —  a  genius,  indeed, 
which  had  not  its  equal  then  in  Christendom.  They 
came  in,  and  begged  grace  of  the  king.  They  got  it. 
But  Edwin's  earldom  was  forfeited,  and  he  and  his 
brother  became,  from  thenceforth,  desperate  men. 

Malcolm  of  Scotland  trembled  likewise,  and  asked 


238  HERE  WARD  THE   WAKE. 

for  peace.  The  clans,  it  is  said,  rejoiced  thereat, 
having  no  wish  for  a  war  which  could  buy  them 
neither  spoil  nor  land.  Malcolm  sent  ambassadors 
to  William,  and  took  (at  least  for  his  Cumbrian  lands 
on  this  side  the  border)  that  oath  of  fealty  to  the 
"  Basileus  of  Britain,"  which  more  than  one  Scottish 
king"  and  kinglet  had  taken  before — with  the  secret 
proviso  (which,  during  the  middle  ages,  seems  to  have 
been  thoroughly  understood  in  such  cases  by  both 
parties),  that  he  should  be  William's  man  just  as  long 
as  William  could  compel  him  to  be  so,  and  no  longer. 

Then  came  cruel  and  unjust  confiscations.  Ednoth 
the  standard-bearer  had  fallen  at  Bristol,  fighting  for 
William  against  the  Haroldssons :  yet  all  his  lands 
were  given  away  to  Normans.  Edwin  and  Morcar's 
lands  were  parted  likewise ;  and — to  specify  cases  which 
bear  especially  on  the  history  of  Hereward — Oger  the 
Briton  got  many  of  Morcar's  manors  round  Bourne, 
and  Gilbert  of  Ghent  many  belonging  to  Marlesweyn 
about  Lincoln  city.  And  so  did  that  valiant  and 
crafty  knight  find  his  legs  once  more  on  other  men's 
ground,  and  reappears  in  monkish  story  as  "  the 
most  devout,  and  pious  earl,  Gilbert  of  Ghent." 

What  followed,  Hereward  must  have  heard  not 
from  flying  rumours  ;  but  from  one  who  had  seen, 
and  known,  and  judged  of  all.1 

For  one  day,  about  this  time,  Hereward  was  riding 
out  of  the  gate  of  St.  Omer,  when  the  porter  appealed 
to  him.  Begging  for  admittance  were  some  twenty 
women,  and  a  clerk  or  two  ;  and  they  must  needs 
see  the  chatelain.  The  chatelain  was  away.  What 
should  he  do  ? 

Hereward  looked  at  the  party,  and  saw,  to  his 
surprise,  that  they  were  Englishwomen  ;  and  that  two 
of  them  were  women  of  rank,  to  judge  from  the  rich 
materials  of  their  travel-stained  and  tattered  garments. 
The  ladies  rode  on  sorry  country  garrons,  plainly 

1  For  Gyda's  coining  to  St.  Omer  tLat  year,  see  Ordericus  Vitalis. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  239 

hired  from  the  peasants  who  drove  them.  The  rest 
of  the  women  had  walked  ;  and  weary,  and  footsore 
enough  they  were. 

"  You  are  surely  Englishwomen  ?  "  asked  he  of  the 
foremost,  as  he  lifted  his  cap. 

The  lady  bowed  assent,  beneath  a  heavy  veil. 

"Then  you  are  my  guests.  Let  them  pass  in." 
And  Hereward  threw  himself  off  his  horse,  and  took 
the  lady's  bridle. 

"  Stay,"  she  said,  with  an  accent  half  Wessex,  half 
Danish.  "  I  seek  the  Countess  Judith,  if  it  will 
please  you  to  tell  me  where  she  lives." 

"The  Countess  Judith,  lady,  is  no  longer  in  St. 
Omer.  Since  her  husband's  death,  she  lives  with  her 
mother  at  Bruges." 

The  lady  made  a  gesture  of  disappointment. 

"  It  were  best  tor  you,  therefore,  to  accept  my 
hospitality,  till  such  time  as  I  can  send  you  and  your 
ladies  on  to  Bruges." 

"  I  must  first  know  who  it  is  who  offers  me  hos- 
pitality." 

This  was  said  so  proudly,  that  Hereward  answered 
proudly  enough  in  return, — 

"  I  am  Hereward  Leofricsson,  whom  his  foes  call 
Hereward  the  outlaw  ;  and  his  friends,  Hereward  the 
master  of  knights." 

She  started,  and  threw  her  veil  back,  looking 
intently  at  him.  He,  for  his  part,  gave  but  one 
glance  :  and  then  cried, — 

"Mother  of  Heaven !    You  are  the  great  Countess  !  " 

"Yes,  I  was  that  woman  once,  if  all  be  not  a 
dream.  I  am  now  I  know  not  what,  seeking  hos- 
pitality— if  I  can  believe  my  eyes  and  ears — of 
Godiva's  son." 

"  And  from  Godiva's  son  you  shall  have  it,  as 
though  you  were  Godiva's  self.  God  so  deal  with 
my  mother,  madam,  as  I  will  deal  with  you." 

"  His  father's  wit,  and  his  mother's  beauty  !  "  said 


240  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

the  great  Countess,  looking  upon  him.  "Too,  too 
like  my  own  lost  Harold  !  " 

"  Not  so,  my  lady.  I  am  a  dwarf  compared  to 
him."  And  Hereward  led  the  garron  on  by  the 
bridle,  keeping  his  cap  in  hand,  while  all  wondered 
who  the  dame  could  be,  before  whom  Hereward  the 
champion  would  so  abase  himself. 

"  Leofric's  son  does  me  too  much  honour.  He  has 
forgotten,  in  his  chivalry,  that  I  am  Godwin's  widow." 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  that  you  are  Sprakaleg's 
daughter,  and  niece  of  Canute,  king  of  kings. 
Neither  have  I  forgotten  that  you  are  an  English 
lady,  in  times  in  which  all  English  folk  are  one,  and 
all  old  English  feuds  are  wiped  away." 

"In  English  blood.  Ah!  if  these  last  words  of 
yours  were  true,  as  you,  perhaps,  might  make  them 
true,  England  might  be  saved  even  yet." 

"Saved?" 

"  If  there  were  one  man  in  it,  who  cared  for  aught 
but  himself." 

Hereward  was  silent  and  thoughtful. 

He  had  sent  Martin  back  to  his  house,  to  tell 
Torfrida  to  prepare  bath  and  food  ;  for  the  Countess 
Gyda,  with  all  her  train,  was  coming  to  be  her  guest. 
And  when  they  entered  the  court,  Torfrida  stood 
ready. 

"Is  this  your  lady?"  asked  Gyda,  as  Hereward 
lifted  her  from  her  horse. 

"I  am  his  lady,  and  your  servant,"  said  Torfrida, 
bowing. 

"Child!  child!  Bow  not  to  me.  Talk  not  of 
servants  to  a  wretched  slave,  who  only  longs  to  crawl 
into  some  hole  and  die,  forgetting  all  she  was,  and 
all  she  had." 

And  the  great  Countess  reeled  with  weariness  and 
woe,  and  fell  upon  Torfrida's  neck. 

A  tall  veiled  lady  next  her  helped  to  support  her  ; 

1  See  note  at  end  of  this  Chapter. 


HEREWARD  THE   WARE.  241 

and  between  them  they  almost  carried  her  through  the 
ha'.l,  and  into  Torfrida's  best  guest-chamber. 

And  there  they  gave  her  wine,  and  comforted  her, 
and  let  her  weep  awhile  in  peace. 

The  second  lady  had  unveiled  herself,  displaying 
a  beauty  which  was  still  brilliant,  in  spite  of  sorrow, 
hunger,  the  stains  of  travel,  and  more  than  forty 
years  of  life. 

"She  must  be  Gunhilda,"  guessed  Torfrida  to 
herself,  and  not  amiss. 

She  offered  Gyda  a  bath,  which  she  accepted 
eagerly,  like  a  true  Dane. 

"  I  have  not  washed  for  weeks.  Not  since  we  sat 
starving  on  the  Flat  Holm  there,  in  the  Severn  sea. 
I  have  become  as  foul  as  my  own  fortunes  ;  and  why 
not?  It  is  all  of  a  piece.  Why  should  not  beggars 
go  unwashed  ?  " 

But  when  Torfrida  offered  Gunhilda  the  bath,  she 
declined. 

"  I  have  done,  lady,  with  such  carnal  vanities. 
What  use  in  cleaning  the  body  which  is  itself  unclean, 
and  whitening  the  outside  of  this  sepulchre?  If  I 
can  but  cleanse  my  soul  fit  for  my  heavenly  Bride- 
groom, the  body  may  become — as  it  must  at  last — 
food  for  worms." 

"She  will  needs  enter  religion,  poor  child,"  said 
Gyda;  "and  what  wonder ?" 

"I  have  chosen  the  better  part,  and  it  shall  not 
be  taken  from  me." 

"Taken!  Taken!  Hark  to  her.  She  means  to 
mock  me,  the  proud  nun,  with  that  same  '  taken.  ' ' 

"  God  forbid,  mother  !  " 

"Then  why  say  taken,  to  me  from  whom  all  /s 
taken? — Husband,  sons,  wealth,  land,  renown,  pov.er 
— power  which  I  loved,  wretch  that  I  was,  as  well  as 
husband  and  as  sons.  Ah  God  !  the  girl  is  right. 
Better  to  rot  in  the  convent,  that  writhe  in  the  world. 
Better  never  to  have  had,  than  to  have  had  and  lost." 


242  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"Amen!"  said  Gmihilda.  "'Blessed  are  the 
barren,  and  they  that  never  gave  suck,'  saith  the 
Lord." 

"No!  Not  so!"  cried  Torfrida.  "Better,  Countess, 
to  have  had  and  lost,  than  never  to  have  had  at  all. 
The  glutton  was  right,  swine  as  he  was,  when  he 
said  that  not  even  heaven  could  take  from  him  the 
dinners  he  had  eaten.  How  much  more  we,  if  we 
say,  not  even  heaven  can  take  from  us  the  love  where- 
with we  have  loved  ?  Will  not  our  souls  be  richer 
thereby,  through  all  eternity?" 

"In  Purgatory?"  asked  Gunhilda. 

"  In  Purgatory,  or  where  else  you  will.  I  love 
my  love  ;  and  though  my  love  prove  false,  he  has 
been  true;  though  he  trample  me  under  foot,  he 
has  held  me  in  his  bosom  ;  though  he  kill  me,  he  has 
lived  for  me.  Better  to  have  been  his  but  for  one 
day,  than  never  to  have  been  his  at  all.  What  I  have 
had  will  still  be  mine,  when  that  which  I  have  shall 
fail  me." 

"  And  you  would  buy  short  joy  with  lasting  woe  ?  " 

"That  would  I,  like  a  brave  man's  child.  I  say — 
The  present  is  mine,  and  I  will  enjoy  it  as  greedily 
as  a  child.  Let  the  morrow  take  thought  for  the 
things  of  itself. — Countess,  your  bath  is  ready." 

Nineteen  years  after,  when  the  great  conqueror 
lay,  tossing  with  agony  and  remorse,  upon  his  dying 
bed,  haunted  by  the  ghosts  of  his  victims,  the  clerks 
of  St.  Saviour's  in  Bruges'  city,  were  putting  up  a 
leaden  tablet  (which  remains,  they  say,  unto  this  very 
day)  to  the  memory  of  one  whose  gentle  soul  had 
gently  passed  away.  "  Charitable  to  the  poor,  kind 
and  agreeable  to  her  attendants,  courteous  to 
strangers,  and  only  severe  to  herself,"  Gunhilda  had 
lingered  on  in  a  world  of  war  and  crime  ;  and  had 
gone,  it  may  be,  to  meet  Torfrida  beyond  the  grave, 
and  there  finish  their  doubtful  argument. 

The  Countess  was  served  with  food  in  Torfrida's 


HERE  WARD   THE   WAKE.  24^ 

chamber.     Hereward  and  his  wife  refused  to  sit,  and 
waited  on  her  standing-. 

"  I  wish  to  show  these  saucy  Fleming's,"  said  he, 
"  that  an  English  princess  is  a  princess  still  in  the 
eyes  of  one  more  nobly  born  than  any  of  them." 

But  after  she  had  eaten,  she  made  Torfrida  sit 
before  her  on  the  bed,  and  Hereward  likewise  ;  and 
began  to  talk ;  eagerly,  as  one  who  had  not  un- 
burdened her  mind  for  many  weeks;  and  eloquently 
too,  as  became  Sprakaleg's  daughter,  and  Godwin's 
wife. 

She  told  them  how  she  had  fled  from  the  storm  of 
Exeter,  with  a  troop  of  women,  who  dreaded  the 
brutalities  of  the  Normans.1  How  they  had  wandered 
up  through  Devon,  found  fishers'  boats  at  Watchet  in 
Somersetshire,  and  gone  off  to  the  little  desert  island 
of  the  Flat  Holm,  in  hopes  of  there  meeting  with  the 
Irish  fleet,  which  her  sons,  Edmund  and  Godwin, 
were  bringing  against  the  West  of  England.  How 
the  fleet  had  never  come,  and  they  had  starved  for 
many  days ;  and  how  she  had  bribed  a  passing 
merchantman  to  take  her  and  her  wretched  train  to 
the  land  of  Baldwin  the  De"bonnaire,  who  might  have 
pity  on  her  for  the  sake  of  his  daughter  Judith,  and 
Tosti  her  husband,  who  died  in  his  sins. 

And  at  his  name,  her  tears  began  to  flow  afresh  : 
fallen  in  his  overweening  pride, — like  Sweyn,  like 
Harold,  like  herself 

"The  time  was,  when  I  would  not  weep.  If  I 
could,  I  would  not.  For  a  year,  lady,  after  Senlac, 
,,J  sat  like  a  stone.  I  hardened  my  heart  like  a  wall 
of  brass,  against  God  and  man.  Then,  there  upon 
the  Flat  Holm,  feeding  on  shell-fish,  listening  to  the 
wail  of  the  sea-fowl,  looking  outside  across  the  wan 
water  for  the  sails  which  never  came,  my  heart  broke 

1  To  do  William  justice,  he  would  not  allow  his  men  to  enter  the  city  while 
they  were  bloodhot ;  and  »o  prevented,  BO  far  as  he  rould,  the  excesses  whico 
Gyda  had  feared. 


344  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

down  a  moment.  And  I  heard  a  voice  crying-,  'There 
is  no  help  in  man,  go  thou  to  God.'  And  I  answered 
— That  were  a  beggar's  trick,  to  go  to  God  in  need, 
when  I  went  not  to  Him  in  plenty.  No.  Without 
God  I  planned,  and  without  Him  I  must  fail.  With- 
out Him  I  went  into  the  battle,  and  without  Him  I 
must  bide  the  brunt.  And  at  best — Can  He  give 
me  back  my  sons  ?  And  I  hardened  my  heart  again 
like  a  stone,  and  shed  no  tear  till  I  saw  your  fair 
face  this  day. 

"  And  now,"  she  said,  turning  sharply  on  Here- 
ward,  "what  do  you  do  here?  Do  you  not  know 
that  your  nephews'  lands  are  parted  between  grooms 
from  Angers,  and  scullions  from  Normandy  ?  " 

''  So  much  the  worse  for  both  them  and  the  grooms." 

"Sir?" 

"  You  forget,  lady,  that  I  am  an  outlaw." 

"  But  do  you  not  know  that  your  mother's  lands  are 
seized  likewise  ?  " 

"  She  will  take  refuge  with  her  grandsons,  who  are, 
as  I  hear,  again  on  good  terms  with  their  new  master, 
showing  thereby  a  most  laudable  and  Christian  spirit 
of  forgiveness." 

"  On  good  terms?  Do  you  not  know,  then,  that 
they  are  fighting  again,  outlaws,  and  desperate  at  the 
Frenchman's  treachery?  Do  you  not  know  that  they 
have  been  driven  out  of  York,  after  defending  the  city 
street  by  street,  house  by  house  ?  Do  you  not  know 
that  there  is  not  an  old  man  or  a  child  in  arms  left  in 
York  ;  and  that  your  nephews,  and  the  few  fighting 
men  who  were  left,  went  down  the  Humber  in  boats, 
and  north  to  Scotland,  to  Gospatric  and  Waltheof? 
Do  you  not  know  that  your  mother  is  left  alone — at 
Bourne,  or  God  knows  where — to  endure  at  the  hands 
of  Norman  ruffians  what  thousands  more  endure?" 

Hereward  made  no  answer,  but  played  with  his 
dagger. 

"And  do  you  know  that  England  is  ready  to  burst 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  245 

into  a  blaze,  if  there  be  one  man  wise  enough  to  put 
the  live  coal  into  the  right  place?  That  Sweyn 
Ulffson  my  nephew,  or  Asbjorn  his  brother,  will  surely 
land  there  within  the  year  with  a  mighty  host  ?  And 
that  if  there  be  one  man  in  England  of  wit  enough, 
and  knowledge  enough  of  war,  to  lead  the  armies  of 
England,  the  Frenchman  may  be  driven  into  the  sea 
is  there  any  here  who  understands  English  ?  " 

"  None  but  ourselves." 

"  And  Canute's  nephew  sit  on  Canute's  throne?  " 

Hereward  still  played  with  his  dagger. 

"  Not  the  sons  of  Harold,  then  ?  "  asked  he  after  a 
while. 

"  Never  !  I  promise  you  that — I,  Countess  Gyda, 
their  grandmother." 

"  Why  promise  me,  of  all  men,  O  great  lady  ?  " 

"  Because — I  will  tell  you  after.  But  this  I  say, 
my  curse  on  the  grandson  of  mine  who  shall  try  to 
seize  that  fatal  crown,  which  cost  the  life  of  my  fairest, 
my  noblest,  my  wisest,  my  bravest !  " 

Hereward  bowed  his  head,  as  if  consenting  to  the 
praise  of  Harold.  But  he  knew  who  spoke  ;  and  he 
was  thinking  within  himself:  "  Her  curse  may  be  on 
him  who  shall  seize,  and  yet  not  on  him  to  whom  it 
is  given." 

"All  that  they,  young  and  unskilful  lads,  have  a 
right  to  ask  is,  their  father's  earldoms  and  their 
father's  lands.  Edwin  and  Morcar  would  keep  their 
earldoms  as  of  right.  It  is  a  pity,  that  there  is  no 
lady  of  the  house  of  Godwin,  whom  we  could  honour 
by  offering  her  to  one  of  your  nephews,  in  ^return  for 
their  nobleness  in  giving  Aldytha  to  my  Harold.  But 
this  foolish  girl  here,  refuses  to  wed — 

"  And  is  past  forty,"  thought  Hereward  to  himself. 

"  However,  some  plan  to  join  the  families  more 
closely  together  might  be  thought  of.  One  of  the 
young  earls  might  marry  Judith  here.  Waltheof 
would  have  Northumbria,  in  right  of  his  father,  and 


246          •     HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

ought  to  be  well  content — for  although  she  is  some- 
what older  than  he,  she  is  peerlessly  beautiful — to 
marry  your  niece.  Aldytha." 

"And  Gospatric?" 

"  Gospatric,"  she  said,  with  a  half-sneer,  "  will  be 
as  sure,  as  he  is  able,  to  get  something  worth  having 
for  himself  out  of  any  medley.  Let  him  have  Scotch 
Northumbria,  if  he  claim  it.  He  is  more  English  than 
Dane  :  he  will  keep  those  northern  English  more  true 
to  us." 

"  But  what  of  Sweyn's  gallant  holders  and  house- 
carles,  who  are  to  help  to  do  this  mighty  deed  ?  " 

"  Senlac  left  gaps  enough  among  the  noblemen  of 
the  South,  which  they  can  fill  up,  in  the  place  of  the 
French  scum  who  now  riot  over  Wessex.  And  if  that 
should  suffice,  what  higher  honour  for  me,  or  for  my 
daughter  the  Queen,  than  to  devote  our  lands  to  the 
heroes  who  have  won  them  back  for  us?  " 

Hereward  hoped  inwardly  that  Gyda  would  be 
as  good  as  her  word;  for  her  greedy  grasp  had 
gathered  to  itself,  before  the  Battle  of  Hastings,  no 
less  than  six-and-thirty  thousand  acres  of  good 
English  soil. 

"  I  have  always  heard,"  said  he,  bowing,  "  that  if 
the  Lady  Gyda  had  been  born  a  man,  England  would 
have  had  another  all-seeing  and  all-daring  statesman, 
and  Earl  Godwin  a  rival,  instead  of  a  helpmate.  Now 
I  believe  what  I  have  heard." 

But  Torfrida  looked  sadly  at  the  Countess.  There 
was  something  pitiable  in  the  sight  of  a  woman 
ruined,  bereaved,  seemingly  hopeless,  portioning  out 
the  very  land  from  which  she  was  a  fugitive;  unable 
to  restrain  the  passion  for  intrigue,  which  had  been 
the  toil  and  the  bane  of  her  sad  and  splendid  life. 

"  And  now,"  she  went  on,  "  surely  some  kind  saint 
brought  me,  even  on  my  first  landing,  to  you  of  all 
living  men." 

"  Doubtless  the  blessed  St.  Bertin,  beneath  whose 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  247 

shadow  we   repose   here   in   peace,"    said    Hereward 
somewhat  drily. 

"I  will  go  barefoot  to  his  altar  to-morrow,  and 
offer  my  last  jewel,"  said  Gunhilda. 

"  You,"  said  Gyda,  without  noticing  her  daughter, 
"are  above  all  men  the  man  who  is  needed."  And 
she  began  praising  Hereward's  valour,  his  fame,  his 
eloquence,  his  skill  as  a  general  and  engineer  ;  and 
when  he  suggested,  smiling,  that  he  was  an  exile  and 
an  outlaw,  she  insisted  that  he  was  all  the  fitter  from 
that  very  fact  He  had  no  enemies  among  the  nobles. 
He  had  been  mixed  up  in  none  of  the  civil  wars  and 
blood  feuds  of  the  last  fifteen  years.  He  was  known 
only  as  that  which  he  was,  the  ablest  English  captain 
of  his  day — the  only  man  who  could  cope  with  William, 
the  only  man  whom  all  parties  in  England  would 
alike  obey. 

And  so,  with  flattery  as  well  as  with  truth,  she 
persuaded,  if  not  Hereward,  at  least  Torfrida,  that  he 
was  the  man  destined  to  free  England  once  more  ;  and 
that  an  earldom — or  anything  which  he  chose  to  ask — 
would  be  the  sure  reward  of  his  assistance. 

"Torfrida,"  said  Hereward  that  night,  "kiss  me 
well ;  for  you  will  not  kiss  me  again  for  a  while." 

"What?" 

"  I  am  going  to  England  to-morrow." 

"Alone?" 

"  Alone.  I  and  Martin  to  spy  out  the  land  ;  and  a 
dozen  or  so  of  housecarles  to  take  care  of  the  ship  in 
harbour." 

"But  you  have  promised  to  fight  the  Viscount  of 
Pinkney." 

"I  will  be  back  again  in  time  for  him.  Not  a 
word — I  must  go  to  England,  or  go  mad." 

"But  Countess  Gyda?  Who  will  squire  her  to 
Bruges  ?  " 

"  You  and  the  rest  of  my  men.  You  must  tell  her 
all.  She  has,  a  woman's  heart,  and  will  understand. 


248 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 


And  tell  Baldwin  I  shall  be  back  within  the  month,  if 
I  am  alive  on  land  or  water." 

"  Hereward,  Hereward,  the  French  will  kill  you  !" 

"  Not  while  I  have  your  armour  on.  Peace,  little 
fool !  Are  you  actually  afraid  for  Hereward  at  last  ?  " 

"Oh,  heavens!  when  am  I  not  afraid  for  you?" 
and  she  cried  herself  to  sleep  upon  his  bosom.  But 
she  knew  that  it  was  the  right,  and  knightly,  and 
Christian  thing  to  do. 

Two  days  after,  a  long  ship  ran  out  of  the  Aa,  and 
sailed  away  north. 


NOTE. — I  give  so  much  of  the  pedigree  of  the  Countess  Gyda 
as  may  serve  to  explain  her  connection  with  the  Royal  House 
of  Denmark. 

King  HARALD  Bluetooth. 

I 


King  SWEYN  Forkbeard. 


THYRA,  m.  STYRBIORN. 
THORKILL  SP 


5PRAKALEG. 


CANUTE  the  Great.         ESTRID— EARL  ULF.         GYDA— EARL  GODWIN. 


etc.                                          | 

• 

K.  SWEYN.                 BIORN, 
murdered  by 
SWEYN  GODWINSSON  his  Cousin. 

1 

ASBIORN, 

sacked 
Peterborough. 

SWEYN.         HAROLD        EADGITHA. 
(Outlawed.)    m.  ALGITHA.      m.  EDWARD 

d.  of  ALGAR.  the  Confessor. 
I 


LEOFWIN.  GYRTH.     GUNHILDA. 

' , '          (A  Nun.) 

(Killed  at  Hastings.) 


GYDA,                        TOSTIG. 
m.  WALDEMAR.              m.  JUDITH 
k.  of  Russia.                    of  Flanders, 
(from  whom  derive,  by                     | 

the  Mother  s  side.) 
WALDEMAR   I.                 SCULO 
King  of  Denmark.        from  wj,Om  derive 
HAKON  the  Old, 
K.  ERIC  CLIPPING.                  etc. 

Kings  of  Norway. 
The  House  of  Oldenburg. 

The  House  of  Glucksburg.       __ 

KATIL  KROK, 
founded  a  noble 
family  in 
Halogaland. 

ALEXANDRA.  PRINCESS  OF  WALES. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  249 

Langebek   (in    his   Scriptores  Rerum   Danicarum),   tries    in- 

feniously  enough  to  rationalise  the  mythic  pedigree  of  Earl 
hvard  Digre,  by  making  the  Fairy  Bear  identical  with 
Styrbiorn,  Spratling  his  son  with  Thorkill  Sprakaleg,  and  Biorn 
Bearsson,  father  of  Siward,  a  brother  of  Earl  Ulf  and  Countess 
Gyda.  But  if  so,  Ulf  and  Gyda  would  have  been  notoriously  of 
the  House  of  the  Bear,  and  famous,  like  Siward,  for  their 
pointed  ears.  Beside,  Siward  would  thus  have  been  the  nephew 
of  Countess  Gyda  and  Earl  Godwin,  a  fact  which  is  men- 
tioned by  no  chronicler,  and  which  is  inadmissible  on  account 
of  Siward's  age.  His  pedigree  is  altogether  mythical,  and  best 
left  in  the  fairy-land  whence  it  sprang. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

HOW   HEREWARD  CLEARED   BOURNE   OF   FRENCHMEN. 

IT  may  have  been  well  a  week  after,  that  Hereward 
came  from  the  direction  of  Boston,  with  Martin 
running  at  his  heels. 

As  Hereward  rode  along  the  summer  wold  the 
summer  sun  sank  low,  till  just  before  it  went  down 
he  came  to  an  island  of  small  enclosed  fields,  high 
banks,  elm  trees,  and  a  farm  inside  ;  one  of  those 
most  ancient  holdings  of  the  Southern  and  Eastern 
Counties,  still  to  be  distinguished  by  their  huge 
banks  and  dykes  full  of  hedgerow  timber,  from  the 
more  modern  corn  -  lands  outside,  which  were  in 
Hereward's  time  mostly  common  pasture-land,  or 
rough  fen. 

"This  should  be  Azeidun,"  said  he;  "and  there 
inside,  as  I  live,  stands  Azer  getting  in  his  crops. 
But  who  has  he  with  him?" 

With  the  old  man  were  some  half-dozen  men  of  his 
own  rank  ;  some  helping  the  serfs  with  might  and 
main  ;  one  or  two  standing  on  the  top  of  the  banks, 
as  if  on  the  look-out :  but  all  armed  cap-a-pie. 

"  His  friends  are  helping  him  to  get  them  in," 
quoth  Martin,  "for  fear  of  the  rascally  Frenchmen, 


25o  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

A  pleasant  and  peaceable  country  we  have  come 
back  to." 

"  And  a  very  strong  fortress  are  they  holding-," 
said  Hereward,  "against  either  French  horsemen  or 
French  arrows.  How  to  dislodge  those  six  fellows 
without  six  times  their  number,  I  do  not  see.  It  is 
well  to  recollect  that." 

And  so  he  did  ;  and  turned  to  use  again  and  again, 
in  after  years,  the  strategic  capabilities  of  an  old- 
fashioned  English  farm. 

Hereward  spurred  his  horse  up  to  the  nearest  gate, 
and  was  instantly  confronted  by  a  little  fair-haired 
man,  as  broad  as  he  was  tall,  who  heaved  up  a  long 
twybill,  or  double  axe,  and  bade  him,  across  the  gate, 
go  to  a  certain  place. 

"  Little  Winter,  little  Winter,  my  chuck,  my 
darling,  my  mad  fellow,  my  brother-in-arms,  my 
brother  in  robbery  and  murder,  are  you  grown  so 
honest  in  your  old  age  that  you  will  not  know  little 
Hereward  the  wolf  s-head  ?  " 

"Hereward!"  shrieked  the  doughty  little  man. 
"  I  took  you  for  an  accursed  Norman  in  those  out- 
landish clothes";  and  lifting  up  no  little  voice,  he 
shouted — • 

"Hereward  is  back,  and  Martin  Lightfoot  at  his 
heels  !  " 

The  gate  was  thrown  open,  and  Hereward  all  but 
pulled  off  his  horse.  He  was  clapped  on  the  back, 
turned  round  and  round,  admired  from  head  to  foot, 
shouted  at  by  old  companions  of  his  boyhood,  naughty 
young  housecarles  of  his  old  troop,  now  settled  down 
into  honest  thriving  yeomen,  hard  working  and  hard 
fighting,  who  had  heard  again  and  again,  with  pride, 
his  doughty  doings  over  sea.  There  was  Winter,  and 
Gwenoch,  and  Gery,  Hereward's  cousin — ancestor, 
it  may  be,  of  the  ancient  and  honourable  house  of  that 
name,  and  of  those  parts  ;  and  Duti  and  Outi,  the 
two  valiant  twins  ;  and  Ulfard  the  White,  and  others, 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  251 

some  of  whose  names,  and  those  of  their  sons,  still 
stand  in  Domesday  Book. 

"  And  what,"  asked  Hereward,  after  the  first  con- 
gratulations were  over,  "  of  my  mother?  What  of 
the  folk  at  Bourne?  " 

All  looked  each  at  the  other  and  were  silent. 

"  You  are  too  late,  young  lord,"  said  Azer. 

"  Too  late?" 

"  The  Frenchman  has  given  it  to  a  man  of  Gilbert 
of  Ghent's— -his  butler,  groom,  cook,  for  aught  I 
know." 

"  To  Gilbert's  man?     And  my  mother?  " 

"  God  help  your  mother,  and  your  young  brother 
too.  She  fled  to  Bourne  awhile  ago  out  of  Shropshire. 
All  her  lands  in  those  parts  are  given  away  to  French- 
men. Even  Coventry  Minster  was  not  safe  for  her; 
so  hither  she  came  :  but  even  here  the  French  villains 
have  found  her  out.  Three  days  ago  some  five-and- 
twenty  French  marched  into  the  place." 

"  And  you  did  not  stop  them?  " 

"Young  sir,  who  are  we  to  stop  an  arm}'?  We 
have  enough  to  keep  our  own.  Gilbert,  let  alone  the 
villain  Ivo  of  Spalding,  can  send  a  hundred  men  down 
on  us  in  four-and-twenty  hours.' 

"  Then  I,"  said  Hereward  in  a  voice  of  thunder, 
"will  find  the  way  to  send  two  hundred  down  on 
him  ";  and  turning  his  horse  from  the  gate,  he  rode 
away  furiously  towards  Bourne. 

He  turned  back  as  suddenly,  and  galloped  into  the 
field. 

"  Lads  !  old  comrades  !  will  you  stand  by  me  if  I 
need  you?  Will  you  follow  the  Wake,  as  hundreds 
have  followed  him  already,  if  he  will  only  go  before?  " 

"  We  will,  we  will." 

"  I  shall  be  back  ere  morning.  What  you  have  to 
do,  I  will  tell  you  then." 

"  Stop  and  eat — but  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

Then  Hereward  swore  a  great  oath,  by  oak  ancl 


252  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

ash  and  thorn,  that  he  would  neither  eat  bread  nor 
drink  water,  while  there  was  a  Norman  left  in 
Bourne. 

"  A  little  ale,  then,  if  no  water,"  said  Azer. 

Herevvard  laughed,  and  rode  away. 

"  You  will  not  go  single-Landed  against  all  those 
ruffians?  "  shouted  the  old  man  after  him.  "  Saddle, 
lads,  and  go  with  him,  some  of  you,  for  very  shame's 
sake." 

But  when  they  galloped  after  Hereward,  he  sent 
them  back.  He  did  not  know  yet,  he  said,  what  he 
would  do.  But  that  they  should  gather  their  forces, 
and  see  what  men  they  could  afford  him,  in  case  of 
open  battle.  And  he  rode  swiftly  on. 

When  he  came  within  the  lands  of  Bourne  it  was 
dark. 

"So  much  the  better,"  thought  Hereward.  "I 
have  no  wish  to  see  the  old  place  till  I  have  somewhat 
cleaned  it  out." 

He  rode  slowly  into  the  long  street  between  the 
overhanging  gables,  past  the  cross-ways,  and  along 
the  water-gang,  and  the  high  earth-banks  of  his 
ancient  home.  Above  them  he  could  see  the  great 
hall,  its  narrow  windows  all  ablaze  with  light.  With 
a  bitter  growl  he  turned  back,  trying  to  recollect  a 
house  where  he  could  safely  lodge.  Martin  pointed 
one  out. 

"Old  Viking  Surturbrand,  the  housecarle,  did  live 
there  ;  and  maybe  lives  there  still." 

"  We  will  try  ;  "  and  Martin  knocked  at  the  door. 

The  wicket  was  opened,  but  not  the  door ;  and 
through  the  wicket  window  a  surly  voice  asked  who 
v;as  there. 

"  Who  lives  here  ?  " 

"  Pery,  son  of  Surturbrand.  Who  art  thou  who 
abkest  ?  " 

•'*  An  honest  gentleman  and  his  servant,  looking  for 
a  night's  lodging." 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  253 

"  This  is  no  place  for  honest  folk." 

"As  for  that,  we  don't  wish  to  be  more  honest 
than  you  would  have  us  ;  but  lodging  we  will  pay 
for,  freely  and  well." 

"  We  want  none  of  thy  money  :  "  and  the  wicket 
was  shut. 

Martin  pulled  out  his  axe,  and  drove  the  panel  in. 

"What  art  doing?  We  shall  rouse  the  town," 
said  Hereward. 

"  Let  be  :  these  are  no  French,  but  honest  English, 
who  like  one  all  the  better  for  a  little  horse-play." 

"  What  didst  do  that  for?"  asked  the  surly  voice 
again.  "  Were  it  not  for  those  rascal  Frenchmen  up 
above,  I  would  come  out  and  split  thy  skull  for  thee." 

"If  there  be  Frenchmen  up  above,"  said  Martin, 
in  a  voice  of  feigned  terror,  "  take  us  in  for  the  love 
of  the  Virgin  and  all  saints,  or  murdered  we  shall  be 
ere  morning  light." 

"Thou  hast  no  call  to  stay  in  the  town,  man, 
unless  you  like." 

Hereward  rode  close  to  the  wicket,  and  said  in  a 
low  voice,  "  I  am  a  nobleman  of  Flanders,  good  sir, 
and  a  sworn  foe  to  all  French.  My  horse  is  weary, 
and  cannot  make  a  step  forward  ;  and  if  thou  be  a 
Christian  man,  thou  wilt  take  me  in  and  let  me  go  off 
safe  ere  morning  light." 

"From  Flanders?"  And  the  man  turned  and 
seemed  to  consult  those  within.  At  length  the  door 
was  slowly  opened,  and  Pery  appeared,  his  double 
axe  over  his  shoulder. 

"  If  thou  be  from  Flanders,  come  in  in  God's  name  : 
but  be  quick,  ere  those  Frenchmen  get  wind  of  thee." 

Hereward  went  in.  Five  or  six  men  were  standing 
round  the  long  table,  upon  which  they  had  just  laid 
down  their  double  axes  and  javelins.  More  than  one 
countenance  Hereward  recognised  at  once.  Over  the 
peat  fire  sat  a  very  old  man,  his  hands  upon  his  knees, 
as  he  warmed  his  bare  feet  at  the  embers.  He  started 


254  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

up  at  the  noise,  and  Hereward  saw  at  once  that  it 
was  old  Surturbrand,  and  that  he  was  blind. 

"  Who  is  it?  Is  Hereward  come?"  asked  he,  with 
the  dull  dreamy  voice  of  age. 

"Not  Hereward,  father,"  said  some  one,  "but  a 
knight  from  Flanders." 

The  old  man  dropped  his  head  upon  his  breast 
again  with  a  querulous  whine,  while  Hereward's  heart 
beat  high  at  hearing  his  own  name.  At  all  events  he 
was  among  friends  ;  and  approaching  the  table  he 
unbuckled  his  sword  and  laid  it  down  among  the 
other  weapons.  "  At  least,"  said  he,  "  I  shall  have  no 
need  of  thee  as  long  as  I  am  here  among  honest 
men." 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  my  master's  horse  ?  "  asked 
Martin.  "  He  can't  stand  in  the  street  to  be  stolen 
by  drunken  French  horseboys." 

"Bring  him  in  at  the  front  door,  and  out  at  the 
back,"  said  Pery.  "  Fine  times  these,  when  a  man 
dare  not  open  his  own  yard  gate." 

"  You  seem  to  be  all  besieged  here,"  said  Hereward. 
"How  is  this?" 

"Besieged  we  are,"  said  the  man  ;  and  then,  partly 
to  turn  the  subject  off,  "  Will  it  please  you  to  eat, 
noble  sir?  " 

Hereward  declined  ;  he  had  a  vow,  he  said,  not  to 
eat  or  drink  but  once  a  day,  till  he  had  fulfilled  a 
quest  whereon  he  was  bound.  His  hosts  eyed  him, 
not  without  some  lingering  suspicion,  but  still  with 
admiration  and  respect.  His  splendid  armour  and 
weapons,  as  well  as  the  golden  locks  which  fell  far 
below  his  shoulders,  and  conveniently  hid  a  face 
which  he  Jid  not  wish  yet  to  have  recognised,  showed 
him  to  be  a  man  of  the  highest  rank  ;  while  the  palm 
of  his  small  hand,  as  hard  and  bony  as  any  woodman's, 
proclaimed  him  to  be  no  novice  of  a  fighting  man. 
The  strong  Flemish  accent  which  both  he  and  Martin 
LSghtfoot  had  assumed  prevented  the  honest  English- 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  255 

men  from  piercing  his  disguise.  They  watched  him, 
while  he  in  turn  watched  them,  struck  by  their  uneasy 
looks  and  sullen  silence. 

"We  are  a  dull  company,"  said  he  after  awhile, 
courteously  enough.  "We  used  to  be  told  in 
Flanders  that  there  were  none  such  stout  drinkers 
and  none  such  jolly  singers  as  you  gallant  men  of 
the  Danelagh  here." 

"Dull  times  make  dull  company,"  said  one,  "and 
no  offence  to  you,  Sir  Knight." 

"Are  you  such  a  stranger,"  asked  Pery,  "  that  you 
do  not  know  what  has  happened  in  this  town  during 
the  last  three  days  ?  " 

"No  good,  I  will  warrant,  if  you  have  Frenchmen 
in  it." 

"Why  was  not  Hereward  here?"  wailed  the  old 
man  in  the  corner.  "It  never  would  have  happened 
if  he  had  been  in  the  town." 

"What?"  asked  Hereward,  trying  to  command 
himself. 

"What  has  happened,"  said  Pery,  "makes  a  free 
Englishman's  blood  boil  to  tell  of.  Here,  Sir  Knight, 
three  days  ago,  comes  in  this  Frenchman  with  some 
twenty  ruffians  of  his  own,  and  more  of  one  Taillebois', 
too,  to  see  him  safe  ;  says  that  this  new  king,  this 
base-born  Frenchman,  has  given  away  all  Earl 
Morcar's  lands,  and  that  Bourne  is  his  ;  kills  a  man 
or  two  ;  upsets  the  women  ;  gets  drunk,  ruffles  and 
roysters  ;  breaks  into  my  lady's  bower,  calling  her 
to  give  up  her  keys  ;  and  when  she  gives  them,  will 
have  all  her  jewels  too.  She  faces  the  rogues  like  a 
brave  Princess  ;  and  two  of  the  hounds  lay  hold  of 
her,  and  say  that  she  shall  ride  through  Bourne  as 
she  rode  through  Coventry.  The  boy  Godwin, — he 
that  was  the  great  Earl's  godson,  our  last  hope,  the 
last  of  our  house, — draws  sword  on  them  ;  and  he, 
a  boy  of  sixteen  summers,  kills  them  both  out  of 
hand.  The  rest  set  on  him,  cut  his  head  off,  and 


256  HEREVVARD   THE    WAKE. 

there  it  sticks  on  the  gable  spike  of  the  hall  to 
this  hour.  And  do  you  ask,  after  that,  why  free 
Englishmen  are  dull  company?" 

"  And  our  turn  will  come  next,"  growled  some  one. 
"  The  turn  will  go  all  round  ;  no  man's  life  or  land, 
wife  or  daughters,  will  be  safe  soon  for  these  accursed 
Frenchmen,  unless,  as  the  old  man  says,  Hereward 
comes  back." 

Once  again  the  old  man  wailed  out  of  the  chimney- 
corner  :  "Why  did  they  ever  send  Hereward  away? 
I  warned  the  good  Earl,  I  warned  my  good  lady, 
many  a  time,  to  let  him  sow  his  wild  oats  and  be 
done  with  them,  or  they  might  need  him  some  day 
when  they  could  not  find  him.  He  was  a  lad  !  He 
was  a  lad  !  "  and  again  he  whined,  and  sank  into 
silence. 

Hereward  heard  all  this  dry-eyed,  hardening  his 
heart  into  a  great  resolve. 

"This  is  a  dark  story,"  said  he  calmly;  "and  it 
would  behove  me  as  a  g'entleman  to  succour  this 
distressed  lady,  did  I  but  know  how.  Tell  me  what 
I  can  do  now,  and  I  will  do  it." 

"Your  health!"  cried  one.  "You  speak  like  a 
true  knight." 

"  And  he  looks  the  man  to  keep  his  word,  I'll 
warrant  him,"  spoke  another. 

"  He  does,"  said  Pery,  shaking  his  head  :  "  never- 
theless, if  anything  could  have  been  done,  sir,  be 
sure  we  would  have  done  it  :  but  all  our  armed 
men  are  scattered  up  and  down  the  country,  each 
taking  care,  as  is  natural,  of  his  own  cattle  and 
his  own  women.  There  are  not  ten  men-at-arms 
in  Bourne  this  night;  and  what  is  worse,  sir,  as 
you  may  guess,  who  seem  to  have  known  war  as 
well  as  me,  there  is  no  man  to  lead  them." 

Here  Hereward  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "And 
what  if  I  led  you?  " — on  the  point,  too,  of  discovering 
himself  :  but  he  stopped  short. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  257 

Was  it  fair  to  involve  this  little  knot  of  gallant 
fellows  in  what  might  be  a  hopeless  struggle,  and  to 
have  all  Bourne  burned  over  their  heads  ere  morning 
by  the  ruffian  Frenchmen  ?  No  ;  his  mother's  quarrel 
was  his  own  private  quarrel.  He  would  go  alone 
and  see  the  strength  of  the  enemy  ;  and  after  that, 
may  be,  he  would  raise  the  country  on  them  :  or 
— and  half  a  dozen  plans  suggested  themselves  to 
his  crafty  brain  as  he  sat  brooding  and  scheming : 
then,  as  always,  utterly  self-confident. 

He  was  startled  by  a  burst  of  noise  outside — music, 
laughter,  and  shouts. 

"There,"  said  Pery  bitterly,  "are  those  French- 
men, dancing  and  singing  in  the  hall,  with  my 
Lord  Godwin's  head  above  them ! "  And  curses 
bitter  and  deep  went  round  the  room.  They  sat 
sullen  and  silent  it  may  be  for  an  hour  or  more  : 
only  moving  when,  at  some  fresh  outbreak  of 
revelry,  the  old  man  started  from  his  doze  and  asked 
if  that  was  Hereward  coming. 

"And  who  is  this  Hereward  of  whom  you  speak?" 
said  Hereward  at  last. 

"  We  thought  you  might  know  him,  Sir  Knight,  if 
you  come  from  Flanders,  as  you  say  you  do,"  said 
three  or  four  voices  in  a  surprised  and  surly  tone. 

"  Certainly  I  know  such  a  man  ;  if  he  be  Hereward 
the  wolfs  head,  Hereward  the  outlaw,  Hereward 
the  Wake,  as  they  call  him.  And  a  good  soldier 
he  is,  though  he  be  not  yet  made  a  knight ;  and 
married,  too,  to  a  rich  and  fair  lady.  I  served  under 
this  Hereward  a  few  months  ago  in  the  Zeeland  War, 
and  know  no  man  whom  I  would  sooner  follow." 

"  Nor  I  neither,"  chimed  in  Martin  Lightfoot  from 
the  other  end  of  the  table. 

"Nor  we,"  cried  all  the  men-at-arms  at  once, 
each  vicing  with  the  other  in  extravagant  stories 
of  their  hero's  prowess,  and  in  asking  the  knight 
of  Flanders  whether  they  were  true  or  not. 

H.W.  I 


258  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

To  avoid  offending  them,  Hereward  was  forced 
to  confess  to  a  great  many  deeds  which  he  had 
never  done  :  but  he  was  right  glad  to  find  that  his 
fame  had  reached  his  native  place,  and  that  he  could 
count  on  the  men  if  he  needed  them. 

"  But  who  is  this  Hereward,"  said  he,  "  that  he 
should  have  to  do  with  your  town  here?  " 

Half  a  dozen  voices  at  once  told  him  his  own  story. 

"I  always  heard,"  said  he  dryly,  "that  that 
gentleman  was  of  some  very  noble  kin  ;  and  I  will 
surely  tell  him  all  that  has  befallen  here  as  soon 
as  I  return  to  Flanders." 

At  last  they  grew  sleepy.  The  men  went  out 
and  brought  in  bundles  of  sweet  sedge,  spread  them 
against  the  wall,  and  prepared  to  lie  down,  each 
with  his  weapon  by  his  side.  But  when  they  were 
lain  down,  Hereward  beckoned  to  him  Pery  and 
Martin  Lightfoot,  and  went  out  into  the  back  yard, 
under  the  pretence  of  seeing  to  his  horse. 

"Pery  Surturbrandsson,"  said  he,  "thou  seemest 
to  be  an  honest  man,  as  we  in  foreign  parts  hold 
all  the  Danelagh  folk  to  be.  Now  it  is  fixed  in  my 
mind  to  go  up,  and  my  servant  with  me,  to  yon 
hall,  and  see  what  those  French  upstarts  are  about. 
Wilt  thou  trust  me  to  go,  without  my  fleeing  back 
here  if  I  am  found  out,  or  in  any  way  bringing 
thee  to  harm  by  mixing  thee  up  in  my  private 
matters?  And  wilt  thou,  if  I  do  not  come  back, 
keep  for  thine  own  the  horse  which  is  in  thy  stable, 
and  give  moreover  this  purse  and  this  ring  to  thy 
lady,  if  thou  canst  find  means  to  see  her  face  to 
face  ;  and  say  thus  to  her. — that  he  that  sent  that 
purse  and  ring  may  be  found,  if  he  be  alive,  at  St. 
Omer,  or  with  Baldwin,  Marquis  of  Flanders  ;  and 
that  if  he  be  dead  (  as  he  is  like  enough  to  be,  his 
trade  being  naught  but  war),  she  will  still  find  at 
St  Omer  a  home  and  wealth  and  friends,  till  these 
evil  times  be  overpast?  " 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  259 

As  Hereward  had  spoken  with  some  slight 
emotion,  he  had  dropped  unawares  his  assumed 
Flemish  accent,  and  had  spoken  in  broad  burly 
Lincolnshire ;  and  therefore  it  was  that  Pery,  who 
had  been  staring-  at  him  by  the  moonlight  all  the 
while,  said,  when  he  was  done,  tremblingly : 

"  Either  you  are  Hereward,  or  you  are  his  double- 
ganger.  You  speak  like  Hereward,  you  look  like 
Hereward.  Just  what  Hereward  would  be  now, 
you  are.  You  are,  my  lord,  whom  men  call  Wake  ; 
and  you  cannot  deny  it." 

"Pery,  if  thou  knowest  me,  speak  of  me  to  no 
living  soul,  save  to  thy  lady  my  mother  ;  and  let 
me  and  my  serving  man  go  free  out  of  thy  yard- 
gate.  If  I  ask  thee  before  morning  to  open  it 
again  to  me,  thou  wilt  know  that  there  is  not  a 
Frenchman  left  in  the  Hall  of  Bourne." 

Pery  threw  his  arms  round  him,  and  embraced 
him  silently. 

"Get  me  only,"  said  Hereward,  1'some  long 
woman's  gear  and  black  mantle,  if  thou  canst,  to 
cover  this  bright  armour  of  mine." 

Pery  went  off  in  silence  as  one  stunned  ;  brought 
the  mantle  ;  and  let  them  out  of  the  yard-gate.  In 
ten  minutes  more,  the  two  had  waded  the  Water- 
gang,  scrambled  the  dyke  and  its  palisade,  and 
stood  und,er  the  gable  of  the  great  hall.  Not  a 
soul  was  stirring  outside.  The  serfs  were  all 
cowering  in  their  huts  like  so  many  rabbits  in 
their  burrows,  listening  in  fear  to  the  revelry  of 
their  new  tyrants.  The  night  was  dark  :  but  not  so 
dark  but  that  Hereward  could  see  between  him  and 
the  sky  his  brother's  long  locks  floating  in  the  breeze. 

"That  I  must  have  down,  at  least,"  said  he,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"Then  here  is  wherewithal,"  said  Martin  Light- 
foot,  as  he  stumbled  over  something.  "The  drunken 
villains  have  left  the  ladder  in  the  vard." 


260  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Hereward  raised  the  ladder,  took  down  the 
head,  and  wrapped  it  in  the  cloak ;  and  ere  he 
did  so,  he  kissed  the  cold  forehead.  How  he  had 
hated  that  boy  1  Well,  at  least  he  had  never 
wilfully  harmed  him — or  the  boy  him  either,  for 
that  matter.  And  now  he  had  died  like  a  man, 
killing  his  foe.  He  was  of  the  true  old  blocd 
after  all.  And  Hereward  felt  that  he  would  have 
given  all  that  he  had,  save  his  wife  or  his  sword- 
hand,  to  have  that  boy  alive  again,  to  pet  him, 
and  train  him,  and  teach  him  to  fight  at  his 
side. 

Then  he  slipped  round  to  one  of  the  narrow  un- 
shuttered windows  and  looked  in.  The  hall  was 
in  a  wasteful  blaze  of  light ;  a  whole  month's 
candles  burning  in  one  night.  The  table  was 
covered  with  all  his  father's  choicest  plate ;  the 
wine  was  running  waste  upon  the  floor ;  the  men 
were  lolling  at  the  table  in  every  stage  of  drunken- 
ness ;  the  loose  women,  camp-followers  and  such 
like,  were  almost  as  drunk  as  their  masters  ;  and 
at  the  table-head,  most  drunk  of  all,  sat,  in  Earl 
Leofric's  seat,  the  new  Lord  of  Bourne. 

Hereward  could  scarce  believe  his  eyes.  He  was 
none  other  than  Gilbert  of  Ghent's  stout  Flemish 
cook,  whom  he  had  seen  many  a  time  in  Scotland. 
Hereward  turned  from  the  window  in  disgust :  but 
looked  again  as  he  heard  words  which  roused  his 
wrath  still  more. 

For  in  the  open  space  nearest  the  door  stood  a 
gleeman,  a  dancing,  harping,  foul-mouthed  fellow, 
who  was  showing  off  ape's  tricks,  jesting  against 
the  English  short  coats  —  a  continual  source  of 
insult  among  the  long-robed  French — and  shuffling 
about  in  mockeries  of  English  dancing.  At  some 
particularly  coarse  jest  of  his,  the  new  Lord  of 
Bourne  burst  into  a  roar  of  admiration. 

"Ask  what  thou  wilt,  fellow,  and  thou  shalt  have 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  261 

it.  Thou  wilt  find  me  a  better  master  to  thee  than 
ever  was  Morcar,  the  English  barbarian." 

The  scoundrel,  say  the  old  chroniclers,  made  a 
request  concerning  Hereward's  family  which  cannot 
be  printed  here. 

Hereward  ground  his  teeth.  "  If  thou  livest  till 
morning  light,"  said  he,  "  I  will  not." 

The  last  brutality  awoke  some  better  feeling  in 
one  of  the  girls — a  large  coarse  Fleming,  who  sat 
by  the  new  lord's  side.  "  Fine  words,"  said  she, 
scornfully  enough,  "for  the  sweepings  of  Norman 
and  Flemish  kennels.  You  forget  that  you  left 
one  of  this  very  Leofric's  sons  behind  in  Flanders, 
who  would  besom  you  all  out  if  he  was  here  before 
the  morning's  dawn." 

"Hereward?"  cried  the  cook,  striking  her  down 
with  a  drunken  blow;  "the  scoundrel  who  stole 
the  money  which  the  Frisians  sent  to  Count 
Baldwin,  and  gave  it  to  his  own  troops?  We 
are  safe  enough  from  him  at  all  events ;  he  dare 
not  show  his  face  on  this  side  the  Alps,  for  fear 
of  the  gallows." 

Hereward  had  heard  enough.  He  slipped  down 
from  the  window  to  Martin,  and  led  him  round  the 
house. 

"  Now  then,  down  with  the  ladder  quick,  and 
dash  in  the  door.  I  go  in  :  stay  thou  outside.  If 
any  man  passes  me,  see  that  he  pass  not  thee." 

Martin  chuckled  a  ghostly  laugh  as  he  helped 
the  ladder  down.  In  another  moment  the  door 
was  burst  in,  and  Hereward  stood  upon  the 
threshold.  He  gave  one  war-shout  of — A  Wake  ! 
A  Wake  !  and  then  rushed  forward.  As  he  passed 
the  gleeman,  he  gave  him  one  stroke  across  the 
loins  ;  the  wretch  fell  shrieking. 

And  then  began  a  murder  grim  and  great.  They 
fought  with  ale-cups,  with  knives,  with  benches ; 
but,  drunken  and  unarmed,  they  were  hewn  down 


262  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

like  sheep.  Fifteen  Normans,  says  the  chronicler 
(who  gives  minute  details  of  the  whole  scene), 
were  in  the  hall  when  Hereward  burst  in.  When 
the  sun  rose  there  were  fifteen  heads  upon  the 
gable.  Escape  had  been  impossible.  Martin  had 
laid  the  ladder  across  the  door  ;  and  the  few  who 
escaped  the  master's  terrible  sword,  stumbled  over 
it,  to  be  brained  by  the  man's  not  less  terrible  axe. 

Then  Hereward  took  up  his  brother's  head,  and 
went  in  to  his  mother. 

The  women  in  the  bower  opened  to  him.  They 
had  seen  all  that  passed  from  the  gallery  above, 
which,  as  usual,  hidden  by  a  curtain,  enabled  the 
women  to  watch  unseen  what  passed  in  the  hall 
below. 

The  Lady  Godiva  sat  crouched  together,  all  but 
alone  —  for  her  bower-maidens  had  fled  or  been 
carried  off  long  since — upon  a  low  stool  beside  a 
long  dark  thing  covered  with  a  pall.  So  utterly 
crushed  was  she,  that  she  did  not  even  lift  up  her 
head  as  Hereward  entered. 

He  placed  his  ghastly  burden  reverently  beneath 
the  pall,  and  then  went  and  knelt  before  his  mother. 

For  a  while  neither  spoke  a  word.  Then  the 
Lady  Godiva  suddenly  drew  back  her  hood,  and 
dropping  on  her  knees,  threw  her  arms  round 
Hereward's  neck,  and  wept  till  she  could  weep  no 
more. 

<c  Blessed  strong  arms,"  sobbed  she  at  last,  "  around 
me  !  To  feel  something  left  in  the  world  to  protect 
me  ;  something  left  in  the  world  which  loves  me." 

"  You  forgive  me,  mother?  " 

"You  forgive  me?  It  was  I,  I  who  was  in  fault 
— I,  who  should  have  cherished  you,  my  strongest, 
my  bravest,  my  noblest — now  my  all." 

"No,  it  was  all  my  fault;  and  on  my  head  is  all 
this  misery.  If  I  had  been  here,  as  I  ought  to  have 
been,  all  this  might  have  never  happened." 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  263 

"You  would  only  have  been  murdered  too.  No: 
thank  God  you  were  away ;  or  God  would  have 
taken  you  with  the  rest.  His  arm  is  bared  against 
me,  and  His  face  turned  away  from  me.  All  in 
vain,  in  vain  !  Vain  to  have  washed  my  hands  in 
innocency,  and  worshipped  Him  night  and  day. 
Vain  to  have  builded  minsters  to  His  honour,  and 
heaped  the  shrines  of  His  saints  with  gold.  Vain 
to  have  fed  the  hungry,  and  clothed  the  naked, 
and  washed  the  feet  of  His  poor,  that  I  might 
atone  for  my  own  sins,  and  the  sins  of  my  house. 
This  is  His  answer.  He  has  taken  me  up,  and 
dashed  me  down  :  and  nought  is  left,  but,  like  Job, 
to  abhor  myself  and  repent  in  dust  and  ashes — 
of,  I  know  not  what — I  know  not  what — I  know 
not  what — unless  it  be  that  poor  Algar  held  some 
Church  lands  ;  I  forget  where  they  are,  now,  though 
I  warned  him  often  of  them.  My  brains  are  broken, 
good  Saints.  I  forget — would  that  I  could  forget 
more  —  and  poor  Morcar  held  them  till  this  ruin. 
Is  it  that,  Herevvard?  The  father  takes  God's 
lands  ;  the  son  will  not  restore  them  :  a  dark  crime 
— who  shall  atone  for  that? — though  it  is  but  a 
few  acres — a  few  acres — after  all " 

And  so  she  sobbed  on,  like  any  child. 

"We  will  make  them  up,  mother,  we  will  make 
them  up  twice  over.  But  never  say  that  God  has 
deserted  you.  See,  He  has  sent  you  me ! "  said 
Hereward,  wondering  to  find  himself,  of  all  men 
on  earth,  preaching  consolation. 

"Yes,  I  have  you!  Hold  me.  Love  me.  Let 
me  feel  that  one  thing  loves  me  upon  earth.  I 
want  love ;  I  must  have  it  :  and  if  God,  and 
His  mother,  and  all  the  Saints,  refuse  their  love, 
I  must  turn  to  the  creature,  and  ask  it  to  love 
me,  but  for  a  day." 

"  For  ever,  mother." 

"You  will  not  leave  me?" 


264  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

"If  I  do,  I  come  back,  to  finish  what  I  have 
begun." 

"More  blood?  Oh  God!  Hereward,  not  that! 
Let  us  return  good  for  evil.  Let  us  take  up  our 
crosses.  Let  us  bear  our  sin.  Let  us  humble  our- 
selves under  God's  hand,  and  flee  into  some  convent, 
and  there  die  praying  for  our  country  and  our  kin." 

"  Men  must  watch  while  women  pray.  I  will  take 
you  to  a  minster — to  Peterborough." 

"  No,  not  to  Peterborough " 

"  But  my  uncle  Brand  is  abbot  there,  they  tell  me, 
now  this  four  years  ;  and  that  rogue  Herluin  prior 
in  his  place." 

"  Brand  is  dying  :  dying  of  a  broken  heart,  like 
me.  The  Frenchman  has  given  his  abbey  to  one 
Thorold,  the  tyrant  of  Malmesbury — a  Frenchman 
like  himself.  No,  take  me  where  I  shall  never  see 
a  French  face.  Take  me  to  Crowland — and  him  with 
me — where  I  shall  see  nought  but  English  faces,  and 
hear  English  chants,  and  die  a  free  Englishwoman 
under  St.  Guthlac's  wings." 

"Ah!"  said  Hereward  bitterly,  "St.  Guthlac  is  a 
right  Englishman,  and  will  have  some  sort  of  fellow- 
feeling  for  us  ;  while  St.  Peter,  of  course,  is  somewhat 
too  fond  of  Rome  and  those  Italian  monks.  Well — 
blood  is  thicker  than  water  ;  so  I  hardly  blame  the 
blessed  Apostle." 

"Do  not  talk  so,  Hereward.'' 

"Much  the  saints  have  done  for  us,  mother,  that 
we  are  to  be  so  very  respectful  to  their  high  mighti- 
nesses. I  fear  that,  if  this  Frenchman  goes  on  with 
his  plan  of  thrusting  his  monks  into  our  abbeys,  I 
shall  have  to  do  more  even  for  St.  Guthlac,  than  ever 
he  did  for  me.  Do  not  say  more,  mother.  This 
night  has  made  Hereward  a  new  man.  Now, 
prepare" — and  she  knew  what  he  meant — "and 
gather  all  your  treasures ;  and  we  will  start  for 
Crowland  to-morrow  afternoon." 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  265 


CHAPTER   XX. 

HOW    HEREWARD   WAS   MADE   A   KNIGHT   AFTER    THE 
FASHION    OF   THE   ENGLISH 

A  WILD  night  was  that  in  Bourne.  All  the  folk,  free 
and  unfree,  man  and  woman,  were  out  on  the  streets, 
asking  the  meaning  of  those  terrible  shrieks,  followed 
by  a  more  terrible  silence. 

At  last  Hereward  strode  down  from  the  hall,  his 
drawn  sword  in  his  hand. 

"Silence,  good  folks,  and  hearken  to  me,  once  and 
for  all.  There  is  not  a  Frenchman  left  alive  in  Bourne. 
If  you  be  the  men  I  take  you  for,  there  shall  not  be 
one  left  alive  between  Wash  and  Humber.  Silence, 
again  ! " — as  a  fierce  cry  of  rage  and  joy  arose,  and 
men  rushed  forward  to  take  him  by  the  hand,  women 
to  embrace  him.  "This  is  no  time  for  compliments, 
good  folks,  but  for  quick  wit  and  quick  blows.  For 
the  law  we  fight,  if  we  do  fight ;  and  by  the  law  we 
must  work,  fight  or  not.  Where  is  the  lawman  of  the 
town  ?  " 

"  I  was  lawman  last  night,  to  see  such  law  done  as 
there  is  left,"  said  Pery.  "  But  you  are  lawman  now. 
Do  as  you  will.  We  will  obey  you." 

"  You  shall  be  our  lawman,"  shouted  many  voices. 

"  I  ?     Who  am  I  ?     Out-of-law,  and  a  wolfs  head." 

"  We  will  put  you  back  into  your  law, — we  will  give 
you  your  lands  in  full  busting." 

"  Never  mind  a  husting  on  my  behalf.  Let  us  have 
a  husting,  if  we  have  one,  for  a  better  end  and  a  bigger 
than  that.  Now,  men  of  Bourne,  I  have  put  the  coal 
in  the  bush.  Dare  you  blow  the  fire  till  the  forest  is 
a-flame  from  south  to  north  ?  I  have  fought  a  dozen  of 
Frenchmen.  Dare  you  fight  Taillebois  and  Gilbert  of 
Ghent,  with  William,  Duke  of  Normandy,  at  their 
back?  Or  will  you  take  me,  here  as  I  stand,  and  give 


266  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

me  up  to  them  as  an  outlaw  and  a  robber,  to  feed  the 
crows  outside  the  gates  of  Lincoln  ?  Do  it,  if  you  will. 
It  will  be  the  wiser  plan,  my  friends.  Give  me  up  to 
be  judged  and  hanged  ;  and  so  purge  yourselves  of  the 
villainous  murder  of  Gilbert's  cook — your  late  lord  and 
master." 

"Lord  and  master?  We  are  free  men!"  shouted 
the  holders,  or  yeomen  gentlemen.  "We  hold  our 
lands  from  God  and  the  sun." 

"  You  are  our  lord,"  shouted  the  socmen,  or  tenants. 
"  Who  but  you  ?  We  will  follow,  if  you  will  lead  !  " 

"  Here  ward  is  come  home!"  cried  a  feeble  voice 
behind.  "  Let  me  come  to  him.  Let  me  feel  him." 

And  through  the  crowd,  supported  by  two  ladies, 
tottered  the  mighty  form  of  Surturbrand  the  blind 
Viking. 

"  Hereward  is  come,"  cried  he,  as  he  folded  his 
master's  son  in  his  arms.  "  Ahoi !  he  is  wet  with 
blood  !  Ahoi !  he  smells  of  blood  !  Ahoi !  the  ravens 
will  grow  fat  now,  for  Hereward  is  come  home  ! " 

Some  would  have  led  the  old  man  away :  but  he 
thrust  them  off  fiercely. 

"Ahoi!  come  wolf!  Ahoi!  come  kite!  Ahoi! 
come  erne  from  off  the  fen  !  You  followed  us,  and  we 
fed  you  well,  when  Swend  Fork-beard  brought  us  over 
the  sea.  Follow  us  now,  and  we  will  feed  you  better 
still,  with  the  mongrel  Frenchers .  who  scoff  at  the 
tongue  of  their  forefathers,  and  would  rob  their  nearest 
kinsman  of  land  and  lass.  Ahoi !  Swend's  men  !  Ahoi ! 
Canute's  men  !  Vikings'  sons,  Sea-cocks'  sons,  Ber- 
serkers' sons  all !  Split  up  the  war-arrow,  and  send  it 
round  :  and  the  curse  of  Odin  on  every  man  that  will 
not  pass  it  on  !  A  war-king  to-morrow,  and  Hildur's 
game  next  day,  that  the  old  Surturbrand  may  fall  like 
a.  free  holder,  axe  in  hand,  and  not  die  like  a  cow,  in 
the  straw  which  the  Frenchman  has  spared  him." 

All  men  were  silent,  as  the  old  Viking's  voice, 
cracked  and  feeble  when  he  began,  gathered  strength 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  267 

from  rage,  till  it  rang  through  the  still  night  air  like  a 
trumpet  blast. 

The  silence  was  broken  by  a  long  wild  cry  from  the 
forest,  which  made  the  women  start,  and  catch  their 
children  closer  to  them.  It  was  the  howl  of  a  wolf. 

"  Hark  to  the  witch's  horse!  Hark  to  the  son  of 
Fenris,  how  he  calls  for  meat !  Are  ye  your  father's 
sons,  ye  men  of  Bourne  ?  They  never  let  the  gray 
beast  call  in  vain." 

Hereward  saw  his  opportunity,  and  seized  it.  He 
well  knew  that  there  were  those  in  the  crowd,  as  there 
must  needs  be  in  all  crowds,  who  wished  themselves 
well  out  of  the  business  ;  who  shrank  from  the  thought 
of  facing  the  Norman  barons,  much  more  the  Norman 
king  ;  who  were  ready  enough,  had  the  tide  of  feeling 
begun  to  ebb,  to  blame  Hereward  for  rashness,  even 
though  they  might  not  have  gone  so  far  as  to  give  him 
up  to  the  Normans  ;  who  would  have  advised  some 
sort  of  compromise,  pacifying  half-measure,  or  other 
weak  plan  for  escaping  present  danger  by  future 
destruction.  But  three  out  of  four  there  were  good 
men  and  true.  The  savage  chant  of  the  old  barbarian 
might  have  startled  them  somewhat,  for  they  were 
tolerably  orthodox  Christian  folk.  But  there  was 
sense,  as  well  as  spirit,  in  his  savageness  ;  and  they 
growled  applause  as  he  ceased.  Hereward  heard,  and 
cried  : 

"The  Viking  is  right !  So  speaks  the  spirit  of  our 
fathers  ;  and  we  must  show  ourselves  their  true  sons. 
Send  round  the  war-arrow,  and  death  to  the  man  who 
does  not  pass  it  on  !  Better  die  bravely  together  than 
falter  and  part  company,  to  be  hunted  down  one  by 
one  by  men  who  will  never  forgive  us  as  long  as  ws, 
have  an  acre  of  land  for  them  to  seize.  Pery,  son  of 
Surturbrand,  you  are  the  lawman.  Put  it  to  the 
vote  ! " 

"  Send  round  the  war-arrow,"  shouted  Pery  himselt  ; 
and  if  there  was  a  man  or  two  who  shrank  from  the 


268  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

proposal,  they  found  it  prudent  to  shout  as  loudly  as 
did  the  rest. 

Ere  the  morning  light,  the  war-arrow  was  split  into 
four  splinters,  and  carried  out  to  the  four  airts,  through 
all  Kesteven.  If  the  splinter  were  put  into  the  house- 
father's hand,  he  must  send  it  on  at  once  to  the  next 
freeman's  house.  If  he  were  away,  it  was  stuck  into 
his  house-door,  or  into  his  great  chair  by  the  fireside, 
and  woe  to  him  if,  on  his  return,  he  sent  it  not  on  like- 
wise. All  through  Kesteven  went  that  night  the 
arrow-splinters,  and  with  them  the  whisper,  "The 
Wake  is  come  again  "  ;  till,  before  midday,  there  were 
fifty  well-armed  men  in  the  old  camping-field  outside 
the  town,  and  Hereward  haranguing  them  in  words 
of  fire. 

A  chill  came  over  them,  nevertheless,  when  he  told 
them  that  he  must  at  once  return  to  Flanders. 

"But  it  must  be,"  he  said.  He  had  promised  his 
good  lord  and  sovereign,  Baldwin  of  Flanders,  and  his 
word  of  honour  he  must  keep.  Two  visits  he  must 
pay  ere  he  went ;  and  then  to  sea.  But  within  the 
year,  if  he  were  alive  on  ground,  he  would  return,  and 
with  him  ships  and  men,  it  might  be  with  Sweyn  and 
all  the  power  of  Denmark.  Only  let  them  hold  their 
own  till  the  Danes  should  come,  and  all  would  be  well. 
So  would  they  show  that  they  were  free  Englishmen, 
able  to  hold  England  against  Frenchmen  and  all 
strangers.  And  whenever  he  came  back  he  would  set 
a  light  to  Toft,  Manthorpe,  and  Witham-on-the-hill. 
They  were  his  own  farms,  or  should  have  been  ;  and 
better  they  should  burn  than  Frenchmen  hold  them. 
They  could  be  seen  far  and  wide  over  the  Bruneswold 
and  over  all  the  fen  ;  and  then  all  men  might  know  for 
sure  that  the  Wake  was  come  again. 

"And  nine-and-forty  of  them,"  says  the  chronicler, 
"  he  chose  to  guard  Bourne "  (seemingly  the  lands 
which  had  been  his  nephew  Morcar's),  till  he  should 
come  back  and  take  them  for  himself.  His  own  lands, 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  269 

of  Witham,  Toft,  and  Manthorpe,  Gery  his  cousin 
should  hold  till  his  return  ;  and  they  should  send  what 
they  could  off  them  to  Lady  Godiva  at  Crowland. 

Then  they  went  down  to  the  water  and  took  barge, 
and  laid  the  corpse  therein  ;  and  Godiva  and  Hereward 
sat  at  the  dead  lad's  head  ;  and  Winter  steered  the 
boat,  and  Gwenoch  took  the  stroke-oar. 

And  they  rowed  away  for  Crowland,  by  many  a  mere 
and  many  an  ea ;  through  narrow  reaches  of  clear 
brown  glassy  water  ;  between*  the  dark-green  alders  ; 
between  the  pale-green  reeds  ;  where  the  coot  clanked, 
and  the  bittern  boomed,  and  the  sedge-bird,  not  con- 
tent with  its  own  sweet  song,  mocked  the  notes  of  all 
the  birds  around  ;  and  then  out  into  the  broad  lagoons, 
where  hung  motionless,  high  over  head,  hawk  beyond 
hawk,  buzzard  beyond  buzzard,  kite  beyond  kite,  as 
far  as  eye  could  see.  Into  the  air,  as  they  rowed  on, 
whirred  up  great  skeins  of  wild  fowl  innumerable,  with 
a  cry  as  of  all  the  bells  of  Crowland,  or  all  the  hounds 
of  the  Bruneswold  ;  while  clear  above  all  their  noise 
sounded  the  wild  whistle  of  the  curlews,  and  the 
trumpet  note  of  the  great  white  swan.  Out  of  the 
reeds,  like  an  arrow,  shot  the  peregrine,  singled  one 
luckless  mallard  from  the  flock,  caught  him  up,  struck 
him  stone  dead  with  one  blow  of  his  terrible  heel,  and 
swept  his  prey  with  him  into  the  reeds  again. 

"  Death  !  death  !  death  !  "  said  Lady  Godiva,  as  the 
feathers  fluttered  down  into  the  boat  and  rested  on  the 
dead  boy's  pall.  "  War  among  man  and  beast ;  war 
on  earth  ;  war  in  air ;  war  in  the  water  beneath  "  as  a 
great  pike  rolled  at  his  bait,  sending  a  shoal  of  white 
fish  flying  along  the  surface.  "And  war,  says  holy 
writ,  in  heaven  above.  O  Thou  who  didst  die  to 
destroy  death,  when  will  it  all  be  over?  " 

And  thus  they  glided  on  from  stream  to  stream,  until 
they  came  to  the  sacred  isle  of  "  the  inheritance  of  the 
Lord,  the  soil  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Bartholomew;  the 
most  holy  sanctuary  of  St.  Guthlac  and  his  monks:  the 


270  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

minster  most  free  from  worldly  servitude  ;  the  special 
almshouse  of  the  most  illustrious  kings  ;  the  sole  place 
of  refuge  for  any  one  in  all  tribulations  :  the  perpetual 
abode  01  the  saints  ;  the  possession  of  religious  men, 
especially  set  apart  by  the  Common  Council  of  the 
kingdom  ;  by  reason  of  the  frequent  miracles  of  the 
most  holy  .Confessor,  an  ever  fruitful  mother  of  cam- 
phire  in  the  vineyards  of  Engedi ;  and  by  reason  of  the 
privileges  granted  by  the  kings,  a  city  of  grace  and 
safety  to  all  who  repent." 

As  they  drew  near,  they  passed  every  minute  some 
fisher's  log  canoe,  in  which  worked  with  net  or  line 
the  criminal  who  had  saved  his  life  by  fleeing  to  St. 
Guthlac,  and  becoming  his  man  forthwith  ;  the  slave 
who  had  fled  from  his  master's  cruelty ;  and  here  and 
there  in  those  evil  days,  the  master  who  had  fled  from 
the  cruelty  of  Frenchmen,  who  would  have  done  to 
him  as  he  had  done  to  others.  But  there  all  old 
grudges  were  put  away.  They  had  sought  the  peace 
ot  St.  Guthlac ;  and  therefore  they  must  keep  his 
peace  ;  and  get  their  living  from  the  fish  of  the  five 
rivers,  within  the  bounds  whereof  was  peace,  as  of 
their  own  quiet  streams  ;  for  the  Abbot  and  St.  Guthlac 
were  the  only  lords  thereof,  and  neither  summoner  nor 
sheriff  of  the  king,  nor  armed  force  of  knight  or  earl, 
could  enter  there. 

At  last  they  came  to  Crowland  minster :  a  vast 
range  of  high-peaked  buildings,  founded  on  piles  of 
oak  and  alder  driven  into  the  fen — itself  built  almost 
entirely  of  timber  from  the  Bruneswold ;  barns, 
granaries,  stables,  workshops,  stranger's  hall,  fit  for 
the  boundless  hospitality  of  Crowland  ;  infirmary,  re- 
fectory, dormitory,  library,  abbot's  lodgings,  cloisters  ; 
with  the  great  minster  towering  up,  a  steep  pile,  half 
wood,  half  stone,  with  narrow  round-headed  windows, 
and  leaden  roofs  ;  and,  above  all,  the  great  wooden 
tower,  from  which,  on  high  days,  chimed  out  the 
melody  of  the  seven  famous  bells,  which  had  not 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  371 

their  like  in  English  land.  Guthlac,  Bartholomew, 
and  Bettelm  were  the  names  of  the  biggest,  Turketul 
and  Tatwin  of  the  middle,  and  Pega  and  Bega  of  the 
smallest.  So  says  Ingulf,  who  saw  them  a  few  years 
after  pouring  down  on  his  own  head  in  streams  of 
melted  metal.  Outside  the  minster  walls  were  the 
cottages  of  the  corrodiers,  or  folk  who,  for  a  corrody, 
or  life  pittance  from  the  abbey,  had  given  away  their 
lands  ;  *  beyond  them  again  the  natural  park  of  grass, 
dotted  with  mighty  oaks  and  ashes  ;  and  beyond  all 
those,  cornlands  of  inexhaustible  fertility,  broken  up 
by  the  good  Abbot  Egelric  some  hundred  years  before, 
from  which,  in  times  of  dearth,  the  monks  of  Crowland 
fed  the  people  of  all  the  neighbouring  fens. 

They  went  into  the  great  courtyard.  All  men  were 
quiet,  yet  all  men  were  busy  ;  baking  and  brewing, 
carpentering  and  tailoring,  in  the  workshops  ;  reading 
and  writing  in  the  cloister  ;  praying  and  singing  in 
the  church  ;  and  teaching  the  children  in  the  school- 
house.  Only  the  ancient  sempects — some  near  upon 
a  hundred  and  fifty  years  old — wandered  where  they 
would,  or  basked  against  a  sunny  wall,  like  autumn 
flies  ;  each  with  a  young  monk  to  guide  him,  and 
listen  to  his  tattle  of  old  days.  For,  said  the  laws 
of  Turketul  the  good — "Nothing  disagreeable  about 
the  affairs  of  the  monastery  shall  be  mentioned  in 


it  ir,    »iiiu    ^iiutri  i    ui    viiiciii,    ilia    icuudi    iuru/    1119    lutviiaiiiu    \ji    A9f«um»ui»    ui 

Brathwaite  to  the  Cistercian  Monks  of  Vauldey,  now  Gnmsthorpe  Park,  on 
the  following  conditions.  That  his  wife  should  have  clothing  of  bluet  and 
lambs'  skins ;  and  he  of  grising  or  halbergit  and  lambs'  skins  ;  and  that  their 
food  should  be  such  as  the  monks  had.  Their  two  servants  were  to  fare 


burning  alive  in  the  next  world. 

When  we  talk  of  the  piety  of  our  ancestors  in  giving  lands  to  the  Church, 
we  should  always  remember  that  this  was  what  their  piety  too  often  signified. 
When  we  complain  of  the  squires,  in  Edward  the  Sixth's  time,  for  taking  back 
the  treasures  and  lands  of  the  monasteries,  we  should  remember  that  they  had 
been  got  from  those  squires'  forefathers,  on  «uch  grounds  as  these,  and  no 


other. 


272  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

their  presence.  No  person  shall  presume  in  any  way 
to  offend  them :  but  with  the  greatest  peace  and 
tranquillity  they  shall  await  their  end." 

So  while  the  world  outside  raged,  and  fought,  and 
conquered,  and  plundered,  they  within  the  holy  isle 
kept  up  some  sort  of  order,  and  justice,  and  useful- 
ness, and  love  to  God  and  man.  And  about  the 
yards,  among  the  feet  of  the  monks,  hopped  the 
sacred  ravens,  descendants  of  those  who  brought 
back  the  gloves  at  St.  Guthlac's  bidding ;  and  over- 
head, under  all  the  eaves,  built  the  sacred  swallows, 
the  descendants  of  those  who  sat  and  sang  upon 
St.  Guthlac's  shoulders ;  and  when  men  marvelled 
thereat,  he  the  holy  man  replied,  "Know  that  they 
who  live  the  holy  life  draw  nearer  to  the  birds  of  the 
air,  even  as  they  do  to  the  angels  in  heaven." 

And  Lady  Godiva  called  for  old  Abbot  Ulfketyl,  the 
good  and  brave  ;  and  fell  upon  his  neck,  and  told  him 
all  her  tale  ;  and  Ulfketyl  wept  upon  her  neck,  for  they 
were  old  and  faithful  friends. 

And  they  passed  into  the  dark  cool  church,  where, 
in  the  crypt  under  the  high  altar,  lay  the  thumb  of 
St.  Bartholomew,  which  old  Abbot  Turketul  used 
to  carry  about,  that  he  might  cross  himself  with 
it  in  times  of  danger,  tempest,  and  lightning ;  and 
some  of  the  hair  of  St.  Mary,  Queen  of  Heaven,  in 
a  box  of  gold ;  and  a  bone  of  St.  Leodegar  of 
Aquitaine  ;  and  some  few  remains,  too,  of  the  holy 
bodies  of  St.  Guthlac,  and  of  St.  Bettelm,  his  servant, 
and  St.  Tatwin,  who  steered  him  to  Crowland,  and 
St.  Egbert  his  confessor,  and  St.  Cissa  the  anchorite, 
and  of  the  most  holy  virgin  St.  Etheldreda,  and  many 
more.  But  little  of  them  remained  since  Sigtryg  and 
Bagsac's  heathen  Danes  had  heaped  them  pell-mell 
on  the  floor,  and  burned  the  church  over  them  and 
the  bodies  of  the  slaughtered  monks. 

The  plunder  which  was  taken  from  Crowland  on 
that  evil  day  lay,  and  lies  still,  with  the  plunder  of 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  273 

Peterborough  and  many  a  minster  more,  at  the  bottom 
of  the  Ouse  at  Huntingdon  Bridge.  But  it  had  been 
more  than  replaced  by  the  piety  of  the  Danish  kings 
and  nobles  ;  and  above  the  twelve  white  bearskins 
which  lay  at  the  twelve  altars,  blazed,  in  the  light  of 
many  a  wax  candle,  gold  and  jewels  inferior  only  to 
those  of  Peterborough  and  Coventry. 

And  there  in  the  nave  they  buried  the  lad  Godwin, 
with  chant  and  dirge  ;  and  when  the  funeral  was  done, 
Hereward  went  up  toward  the  high  altar,  and  bade 
Winter  and  Gwenoch  come  with  him.  And  there  he 
knelt,  and  vowed  a  vow  to  God  and  St.  Guthlac  and 
the  Lady  Torfrida,  his  true  love,  never  to  leave  from 
slaying  while  there  was  a  Frenchman  left  alive  on 
English  ground. 

And  Godiva  and  Ulfketyl  heard  his  vow,  and 
shuddered :  but  they  dared  not  stop  him,  for  they 
too  had  English  hearts. 

And  Winter  and  Gwenoch  heard  it,  and  repeated  it 
word  for  word. 

Then  he  kissed  his  mother,  and  called  Winter  and 
Gwenoch,  and  went  forth.  He  would  be  back  again, 
he  said,  on  the  third  day. 

Then  those  three  went  to  Peterborough,  and  asked 
for  Abbot  Brand.  And  the  monks  let  them  in  ;  for 
the  fame  of  their  deed  had  passed  through  the  forest, 
and  all  the  French  had  fled. 

And  old  Brand  lay  back  in  his  great  arm-chair,  his 
legs  all  muffled  up  in  furs,  for  he  could  get  no  heat ; 
and  by  him  stood  Herluin  the  prior,  and  wondered 
when  he  would  die,  and  Thorold  take  his  place,  and 
they  should  drive  out  the  old  Gregorian  chants  from 
the  choir,  and  have  the  new  Norman  chants  of  Robert 
of  Fecamp,  and  bring  in  French-Roman  customs  in 
all  things,  and  rule  the  English  boors  with  a  rod 
of  iron. 

And  old  Brand  knew  all  that  was  in  his  heart,  and 
looked  up  like  a  patient  ox  beneath  the  butcher's  axe, 


274  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

and  said,  "  Have  patience  with  me,  brother  Herluin, 
and  I  will  die  as  soon  as  I  can,  and  go  where  there 
is  neither  French  nor  English,  Jew  nor  Gentile,  bond 
or  free,  but  all  are  alike  in  the  eyes  of  Him  who  made 
them." 

But  when  he  saw  Hereward  come  in,  he  cast  the 
mufflers  off  him,  and  sprang  up  from  his  chair,  and 
was  young  and  strong  in  a  moment,  and  for  a 
moment. 

And  he  threw  his  arms  round  Hereward,  and  wept 
upon  his  neck,  as  his  mother  had  done.  And  Here- 
ward wept  upon  his  neck,  though  he  had  not  wept 
upon  his  mother's. 

Then  Brand  held  him  at  arms'  length,  or  thought 
he  held  him  ;  for  he  was  leaning  on  Hereward,  and 
tottering  all  the  while ;  and  extolled  him  as  the 
champion,  the  warrior,  the  stay  of  his  house,  the 
avenger  of  his  kin,  the  hero  of  whom  he  had  always 
prophesied  that  his  kin  would  need  him,  and  that  then 
he  would  not  fail. 

But  Hereward  answered  him  modestly  and  mildly  : 

"Speak  not  so  to  me  and  of  me,  uncle  Brand. 
I  am  a  very  foolish,  vain,  sinful  man,  who  have 
come  through  great  adventures,  I  know  not  how, 
to  great  and  strange  happiness  ;  and  now  again  to 
great  and  strange  sorrows ;  and  to  an  adventure 
greater  and  stranger  than  all  that  has  befallen  me 
from  my  youth  up  until  now.  Therefore  make  me 
not  proud,  uncle  Brand,  but  keep  me  modest  and 
lowly,  as  befits  all  true  knights  and  penitent  sinners  ; 
for  they  tell  me  that  God  resists  the  proud,  and 
giveth  grace  to  the  humble.  And  I  have  that  to  do 
which  do  I  cannot,  unless  God  and  His  saints  give 
me  grace  from  this  day  forth." 

Brand  looked  at  him,  astonished  ;  and  then  turned 
to  Herluin. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  thee,  Prior?  This  is  the  lad  whom 
you  called  graceless  and  a  savage  ;  and  see,  since  he 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  275 

has  been  in  foreign  lands,  and  seen  the  ways  of 
knights,  he  talks  as  clerkly  as  a  Frenchman,  and  as 
piously  as  any  monk." 

"The  Lord  Hereward,"  said  Herluin,  "has  doubt- 
less learned  much  from  the  manners  of  our  nation 
which  he  would  not .  have  learned  in  England.  I 
rejoice  to  see  him  returned  so  Christian  and  so 
courtly  a  knight." 

"The  Lord  Hereward,  Prior  Herluin,  has  learnt 
one  thing  in  his  travels — to  know  somewhat  of  men 
and  the  hearts  of  men,  and  to  deal  with  them  as  they 
deserve  of  him.  They  tell  me  that  one  Thorold  of 
Malmesbury, — Thorold  of  Fecamp,  the  minstrel,  he 
that  made  the  song  of  Roland — that  he  desires  this 
abbey." 

"  I  have  so  heard,  my  lord." 

"  Then  I  command, — I,  Hereward,  Lord  of  Bourne — 
that  this  abbey  be  held  against  him  and  all  French- 
men, in  the  name  of  Swend  Ulfsson,  King  of  England, 
and  of  me.  And  he  that  admits  a  Frenchman  therein, 
I  will  shave  his  crown  for  him  so  well,  that  he  shall 
never  need  razor  more.  This  I  tell  thee  ;  and  this 
I  shall  tell  thy  monks  before  I  go.  And  unless  you 
obey  the  same,  my  dream  will  be  fulfilled  ;  and  you 
will  see  Goldenborough  in  a  light  low,  and  yourselves 
burning  in  the  midst  thereof." 

"Swend  Ulfsson?  Swend  of  Denmark?  What 
words  are  these  ?  "  cried  Brand. 

"  You  will  know  within  six  months,  uncle." 

"  I  shall  know  better  things,  my  boy,  before  six 
months  are  out." 

"  Uncle,  uncle,  do  not  say  that." 

"  Why  not?  If  this  mortal  life  be  at  best  a  prison 
and  a  grave,  what  is  it  worth  now  to  an  Englishman  ?  " 

"  More  than  ever  ;  for  never  had  an  Englishman 
such  a  chance  of  showing  English  mettle,  and  winning 
renown  for  the  English  name.  Uncle,  you  must  do 
something  for  me  and  my  comrades  ere  we  go." 


276  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

"Well,  boy?" 

"  Make  us  knights." 

"Knights,  lad?  I  thought  you  had  been  a  belted 
knight  this  dozen  years  ?  " 

' '  I  might  have  been  made  a  knight  by  many,  after 
the  French  fashion,  many  a  year  agone.  I  might 
have  been  knight  when  I  slew  the  white  bear.  Ladies 
have  prayed  me  to  be  knighted  again  and  again  since. 
Something  kept  me  from  it.  Perhaps  "  (with  a  glance 
at  Herluin)  "  I  wanted  to  show  that  an  English  squire 
could  be  the  rival  and  the  leader  of  French  and  Flemish 
knights." 

"And  thou  hast  shown  it,  brave  lad,"  said  Brand, 
clapping  his  great  hands. 

' '  Perhaps  I  longed  to  do  some  mighty  deed  at  last, 
which  would  give  me  a  right  to  go  to  the  bravest 
knight  in  all  Christendom,  and  say,  Give  me  the 
accolade,  then !  Thou  only  art  worthy  to  knight 
as  good  a  man  as  thyself." 

"  Pride  and  vain-glory,"  said  Brand,  shaking  his 
head. 

"  But  now  I  am  of  a  sounder  mind.  I  see  now  why 
I  was  kept  from  being  knighted — till  I  had  done  a 
deed  worthy  of  a  true  knight ;  till  I  had  mightily 
avenged  the  wronged,  and  mightily  succoured  the 
oppressed ;  till  I  had  purged  my  soul  of  my  enmity 
against  my  own  kin,  and  could  go  out  into  the  world 
a  new  man,  with  my  mother's  blessing  on  my  head." 

"  But  not  of  the  robbery  of  St.  Peter,"  said  Herluin. 
The  French  monk  wanted  not  for  moral  courage :  no 
French  monk  did  in  those  days.  And  he  proved  it  by 
those  words. 

"  Do  not  anger  the  lad,  Prior ;  now,  too,  above  all 
times,  when  his  heart  is  softened  towards  the  Lord." 

"  He  has  not  angered  me.  The  man  is  right. 
Here,  Lord  Abbot  and  Sir  Prior,  is  a  chain  of  gold, 
won  in  the  wars.  It  is  worth  fifty  times  the  sixteen 
pence  which  I  stole,  and  which  I  repaid  double.  Let 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  277 

St.  Peter  take  it,  for  the  sins  of  me  and  my  two 
comrades,  and  forgive.  And  now,  Sir  Prior,  I  do 
to  thee  what  I  never  did  for  mortal  man.  I  kneel 
and  ask  thy  forgiveness.  Kneel,  Winter !  Kneel, 
Gwenoch  !  "  And  Hereward  knelt. 

Herluin  was  of  double  mind.  He  longed  to  keep 
Hereward  out  of  St.  Peter's  grace.  He  longed  to 
see  Hereward  dead  at  his  feet :  not  because  of  any 
personal  hatred,  but  because  he  foresaw  in  him  a 
terrible  foe  to  the  Norman  cause.  But  he  wished, 
too,  to  involve  Abbot  Brand  as  much  as  possible  in 
Hereward's  rebellions  and  misdeeds,  and  above  all, 
in  the  master-offence  of  knighting  him  ;  for  for  that 
end,  he  saw,  Hereward  was  come.  Moreover,  he  was 
touched  with  the  sudden  frankness  and  humility  of 
the  famous  champion.  So  he  answered  mildly : 

"Verily,  thou  hast  a  knightly  soul.  May  God  and 
St.  Peter  so  forgive  thee  and  thy  companions  as  I 
forgive  thee,  freely  and  from  my  heart." 

"Now,"  cried  Hereward;  "A  boon!  A  boon! 
Knight  me  and  these  my  fellows,  uncle  Brand,  this 
day." 

Brand  was  old  and  weak  ;  and  looked  at  Herluin. 

"  I  know,"  said  Hereward,  "that  the  French  look 
on  us  English  monk-made  knights  as  spurious  and 
adulterine,  unworthy  of  the  name  of  knight.  But,  I 
hold — and  what  churchman  will  gainsay  me  ? — that  it 
is  nobler  to  receive  sword  and  belt  from  a  man  of 
God,  than  from  a  man  of  blood  like  one's-self ;  for 
the  fittest  man  to  consecrate  the  soldier  of  an  earthly 
king,  is  the  soldier  of  Christ  the  King  of  kings."  x 

"He  speaks  well,"  said  Herluin.  "Abbot,  grant 
him  his  boon." 

"  Who  celebrates  high  mass  to-morrow?" 

"Wilton  the  priest,  the  monk  of  Ely,"  said  Herluin 
aloud.  "  And  a  very  dangerous  and  stubborn  English- 
man," added  he  to  himself. 

1  Almost  word  for  word  from  the  Life  of  Henvictrd, 


278  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

"  Good.  Then  this  night  you  shall  watch  in  the 
church.  To-morrow,  after  the  Gospel,  the  thing-  shall 
be  done  as  you  will." 

That  night  two  messengers,  knights  of  the  Abbot, 
galloped  from  Peterborough.  One  rode  to  Ivo  Taille- 
bois  at  Spalding,  to  tell  him  that  Hereward  was  at 
Peterborough  ;  and  that  he  must  try  to  cut  him  off 
upon  the  Egelric's  road,  the  causeway  which  one 
of  the  many  Abbots  Egelric  had  made,  some  thirty 
years  before,  through  Deeping  Fen  to  Spalding,  at  an 
enormous  expense  of  labour  and  of  timber.  The  other 
knight  rode  south,  along  the  Roman  road  to  London, 
to  tell  King  William  of  the  rising  of  Kesteven,  and 
all  the  evil  deeds  of  Hereward  and  of  Brand. 

And  old  Brand  slept  quietly  in  his  bed,  little 
thinking  on  what  errands  his  prior  had  sent  his 
knights. 

Hereward  and  his  comrades  watched  that  night  in 
St.  Peter's  church.  Oppressed  with  weariness  of  body, 
and  awe  of  mind,  they  heard  the  monks  drone  out 
their  chants  through  the  misty  gloom  ;  they  confessed 
the  sins — and  they  were  many — of  their  past  wild  lives. 
They  had  to  summon  up  within  themselves  courage 
and  strength  henceforth  to  live,  not  for  themselves,  but 
for  the  fatherland  which  they  hoped  to  save.  They 
prayed  to  all  the  heavenly  powers  of  that  Pantheon 
which  then  stood  between  man  and  God,  to  help  them 
in  the  coming  struggle  :  but  ere  the  morning  dawned, 
they  were  nodding,  unused  to  any  long  strain  of  mind. 

Suddenly  Hereward  started,  and  sprang  up,  with  a 
cry  of  fire. 

"  What?  Where?"  cried  his  comrades  ;  while  the 
monks  ran  up. 

"The  minster  is  full  of  flame.  No  use,  too  late, 
you  cannot  put  it  out.  It  must  burn." 

"  You  have  been  dreaming,"  said  one. 

"I  have  not,"  said  Hereward.  "Is  it  Lammas 
night?" 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  279 

"  What  a  question  !  It  is  the  vigil  of  the  Nativity 
of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul." 

"Thank  heaven  ;  I  thought  my  old  Lammas  night's 
dream  was  coming  true  at  last." 

Herluin  heard,  and  knew  what  he  meant. 

After  which  Hereward  was  silent,  filled  with  many 
thoughts. 

The  next  morning,  before  the  high  mass,  those 
three  brave  men  walked  up  to  the  altar  ;  laid  thereon 
their  belts  and  swords  ;  and  then  knelt  humbly  at  the 
foot  of  the  steps  till  the  Gospel  was  finished. 

Then  came  down  from  the  altar  Wilton  of  Ely,  and 
laid  on  each  man's  bare  neck  the  bare  blade,  and  bade 
him  take  back  his  sword  in  the  name  of  God  and  of 
St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  and  use  it  like  a  true  knight, 
for  a  terror  and  punishment  to  evil  doers,  and  a 
defence  for  women  and  orphans,  and  the  poor  and  the 
oppressed,  and  the  monks  the  servants  of  God. 

And  then  the  monks  girded  each  man  with  his  belt 
and  sword  once  more.  And  after  mass  was  sung, 
they  rose,  each  feeling  himself — and  surely  not  in 
vain— a  better  man. 

At  least  this  is  certain,  that  Hereward  would  say 
to  his  dying  day,  how  he  had  often  proved  that  none 
would  fight  so  well  as  those  who  had  received  their 
sword  from  God's  knights  the  monks.  Therefore 
he  would  have,  in  after  years,  almost  all  his  com- 
panions knighted  by  the  monks ;  and  he  brought 
into  Ely  with  him  that  same  good  custom  which  he 
had  learnt  at  Peterborough,  and  kept  it  up  as  long 
as  he  held  the  isle. 

Then  he  said : 

"Have  you  monks  a  limner  here,  who  can  paint 
forme?" 

"  That  can  I,"  said  Wilton  of  Ely. 

"Then  take  my  shield,  and  raze  from  it  this  bear 
which  I  carry." 

Wilton  brought  pencil  and  paint,  and  did  so. 


280  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"  Now,  paint  me  in  a  W,  that  shall  stand  for 
Wake ;  and  make  it — make  it  out  of  the  knots  of  a 
monk's  girdle,  for  a  sign  that  I  am  a  monk's  knight, 
and  not  a  king's  ;  and  that  I  am  the  champion  of  the 
monks  of  'England  against  the  monks  of  France,  from 
this  time  forth  for  evermore." 

Wilton  did  it ;  and  made  out  of  two  monks'  girdles 
none  other  than  the  after-famous  Wake  knot. 

"Now  do  the  same  by  Winter  and  Gwenoch's 
shields.  Monks'  knights  are  we  ;  and  monks'  battles 
we  will  fight." 

"You  must  have  a  motto  to  match  withal,  my  good 
L,ord,"  said  Wilton,  throwing  his  English  heart  into 
the  work. 

"What  better  than  my  own  name — Wake?  These 
are  times  in  which  good  Englishmen  must  not  sleep — 
and  sleep  I  will  not,  trust  me;  nor  mine  neither." 

"  Vigila,  that  will  be  in  Latin." 

' '  Ay — let  us  have  Latin  ;  and  show  these  French- 
men that  we  are  clerks  and  gentlemen,  as  well  as 
they." 

"Vigila  .  .  .  et  Ora,"  said  the  monk  solemnly. 
"  Watch  and  pray  ;  lest  thou  enter  into  temptation." 

"  Watch — and  pray.  Thou  speakest  like  a  man 
of  God,"  said  Hereward  half  sadly.  "Thou  hast 
said :  so  be  it.  God  knows,  I  have  need  of  that  too, 
if  only  I  knew  how.  But  I  will  watch,  and  my  wife 
shall  pray ;  and  so  will  the  work  be  well  parted 
between  us." 

And  so  was  born  the  Wake  motto,  and  the  Wake 
knot. 

It  was  late  when  they  got  back  to  Crowland.  The 
good  Abbot  received  them  with  a  troubled  face. 

"As  I  feared,  my  Lord,  you  have  been  too  hot  and 
hasty.  The  French  have  raised  the  country  against 
you." 

"  I  have  raised  it  against  them,  my  Lord." 

"  But  we  have  news  that  Sir  Frederick " 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  281 

"  And  who  may  he  be  ?  " 

"A  very  terrible  Goliah  of  these  French;  old  and 
crafty  ;  a  brother  of  old  Earl  Warrenne  of  Norfolk, 
whom  God  confound.  And  he  has  sworn  to  have 
your  life,  and  has  gathered  knights  and  men-at-arms 
at  Lynn  in  Norfolk." 

"Very  good  ;  I  will  visit  him  as  I  go  home,  Lord 
Abbot.  Not  a  word  of  this  to  any  soul." 

"  I  tremble  for  thee,  thou  young  David." 

"  One  cannot  live  for  ever,  my  Lord.     Farewell." 

A  week  after  a  boatman  brought  news  to  Crowland, 
how  Sir  Frederick  was  sitting  in  his  inn  at  Lynn, 
when  there  came  in  one  with  a  sword,  and  said,  "  I 
am  Here  ward  the  Wake.  I  was  told  that  thou  didst 
desire  greatly  to  see  me  ;  therefore  I  am  come,  being 
a  courteous  knight,"  and  therewith  smote  off  his  head. 
And  when  the  knights  and  others  would  have  stopped 
him,  he  cut  his  way  through  them,  killing  some  three 
or  four  at  each  stroke,  himself  unhurt ;  for  he  was 
clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  magic  armour,  and  who- 
soever smote  it,  their  swords  melted  in  their  hands. 
And  so  gaining  the  door,  he  vanished  in  a  great 
cloud  of  sea-fowl,  that  cried  for  ever,  "The  Wake  is 
come  again." 

And  after  that  the  fen-men  said  to  each  other,  that 
all  the  birds  upon  the  meres  cried  nothing  save,  "The 
Wake  is  come  again." 

And  so,  already  surrounded  with  myth  and  mystery, 
Hereward  flashed  into  the  fens  and  out  again,  like 
the  lightning  brand,  destroying  as  he  passed.  And 
the  hearts  of  all  the  French  were  turned  to  water ; 
and  the  land  had  peace  from  its  tyrants  for  many 
days. 


282  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

HOW    IVO    TAILLEBOIS    MARCHED   OUT   OF   SPALDING 
TOWN. 

A  PROUD  man  was  Ivo  Taillebois,  as  he  rode  next 
morning"  out  of  Spalding  town,  with  hawk  on  fist, 
hound  at  heel,  and  a  dozen  men-at-arms  at  his  back, 
who  would,  on  due  or  undue  cause  shown,  hunt  men 
while  he  hunted  game. 

An  adventurer  from  Anjou,  brutal,  ignorant,  and 
profligate — low-born,  too  (for  his  own  men  whispered, 
behind  his  back,  that  he  was  no  more  than  his  name 
hinted,  a  wood-cutter's  son),  he  still  had  his  deserts. 
Valiant  he  was,  cunning,  and  skilled  in  war.  He  and 
his  troop  of  Angevine  ruttiers  had  fought  like  tigers 
by  William's  side  at  Hastings  ;  and  he  had  been 
rewarded  with  many  a  manor,  which  had  been  Earl 
Algar's,  and  should  now  have  been  Earl  Edwin's,  or 
Morcar's,  or,  it  may  be,  Hereward's  own. 

"A  fat  land  and  fair,"  said  he  to  himself;  "and, 
after  I  have  hanged  a  few  more  of  these  barbarians,  a 
peaceable  fief  enough  to  hand  down  to  the  lawful  heirs 
of  my  body,  if  I  had  one.  I  must  marry.  Blessed 
Virgin  !  this  it  is  to  serve  and  honour  your  gracious 
glory,  as  I  have  always  done  according  to  my  poor 
humility.  Who  would  have  thought  that  Ivo  Taille- 
bois would  ever  rise  so  high  in  lite,  as  to  be  looking 
out  for  a  wife — and  that  a  lady,  too  ?  " 

Then  thought  he  over  the  peerless  beauties  of  the 
Lady  Lucia,  Edwin  and  Morcar's  sister,  almost  as  fair 
as  that  hapless  aunt  of  hers,  Aldytha,  King  Harold's 
wrido\v.  Eddeva  faira,  Eddeva  pulcra,  stands  her 
name  in  Domesday  Book  ;  known,  even  to  her  Norman 
conquerors,  as  the  Beauty  of  her  time,  as  Godiva  her 
mother  had  been  before  her.  Scarcely  less  beautiful 
was  Lucia,  as  Ivo  had  seen  her  at  William's  court, 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  283 

half-captive  and  half-guest :  and  he  longed  for  her ; 
love  her  he  could  not.  "  I  have  her  father's  lands," 
quoth  he;  "what  more  reasonable  than  to  have  the 
daughter,  too  ?  And  have  her  I  will,  unless  the 
Mamzer,  in  his  present  merciful  and  political  mood, 
makes  a  countess  of  her,  and  marries  her  up  to  some 
Norman  coxcomb,  with  a  long  pedigree — invented  the 
year  before  last.  If  he  does  throw  away  his  daughter 
on  that  Earl  Edwin,  in  his  fancy  for  petting  and 
patting  these  savages  into  good  humour,  he  is  not 
likely  to  throw  away  Edwin's  sister  on  a  Taillebois. 
Well.  I  must  put  a  spoke  in  Edwin's  wheel.  It  will 
not  be  difficult  to  make  him  or  Morcar,  or  both  ot 
them,  traitors  once  more  and  for  ever.  We  must 
have  a  rebellion  in  these  parts.  I  will  talk  about  it 
to  Gilbert  of  Ghent.  We  must  make  these  savages 
desperate,  and  William  furious,  or  he  will  be  soon 
giving  them  back  their  lands,  beside  asking  them  to 
Court :  and  then  how  are  valiant  knights  like  us,  who 
have  won  England  for  him,  to  be  paid  for  their 
trouble?  No,  no.  We  must  have  a  fresh  rebellion, 
and  a  fresh  confiscation,  and  then  when  English 
lasses  are  going  cheap,  perhaps  the  Lady  Lucia  may 
fall  to  my  share." 

And  Ivo  Taillebois  kept  his  word ;  and  without 
difficulty,  for  he  had  many  to  help  him.  To  drive  the 
English  to  desperation,  and  to  get  a  pretext  for  seizing 
their  lands,  was  the  game  which  the  Normans  played, 
and  but  too  well. 

As  he  rode  out  of  Spalding  town,  a  man  was  being 
hanged  on  the  gallows  there  permanently  provided. 

That  was  so  common  a  sight,  that  Ivo  would  not 
have  stopped,  had  not  a  priest,  who  was  comforting 
the  criminal,  run  forward,  and  almost  thrown  himself 
under  the  horse's  feet. 

"  Mercy,  good  my  Lord,  in  the  name  of  God  and  all 
His  Saints." 

Ivo  went  to  ride  on. 


284  HERE  WARD   THE   WAKE. 

"  Mercy  !  "  and  he  laid  hands  on  Ivo's  bridle.  "  If 
he  took  a  few  pike  out  of  your  mere,  remember  that 
the  mere  was  his,  and  his  father's  before  him  ;  and  do 
not  send  a  sorely  tempted  soul  out  of  the  world  for  a 
paltry  fish." 

"  And  where  am  I  to  get  fish  for  Lent,  Sir 
Priest,  if  every  rascal  nets  my  waters,  because  his 
father  did  so  before  him  ?  Take  your  hand  off  my 
bridle,  or,  par  le  splendeur  Dex  "  (Ivo  thought  it  fine 
to  use  King  William's  favourite  oath),  "  I  will  hew 
it  off." 

The  priest  looked  at  him,  with  something  of  honest 
fierceness  in  his  eyes ;  and  dropping  the  bridle, 
muttered  to  himself  in  Latin  :  "The  bloodthirsty  and 
deceitful  man  shall  not  live  out  half  his  days.  Never- 
theless my  trust  shall  be  in  Thee,  O  Lord." 

"What  art  muttering,  beast?  Go  home  to  thy 
wife"  (wife  was  by  no  means  the  word  which  Ivo 
used),  "and  make  the  most  of  her,  before  I  rout  out 
thee  and  thy  fellow  canons,  and  put  in  good  monks 
from  Normandy  in  the  place  of  your  drunken  English 
swine.  Hang  him  ! "  shouted  he,  as  the  bystanders 
fell  on  their  knees  before  the  tyrant,  crouching  in 
terror,  every  woman  for  her  husband,  every  man  for 
wife  and  daughter.  "And  hearken,  you  fen-frogs  all. 
Whoso  touches  pike  or  eel,  swimming  or  wading 
fowl,  within  these  meres  of  mine  without  my  leave,  I 
will  hang  him  as  I  hanged  this  man  ;  as  I  hanged  four 
brothers  in  a  row  on  Wrokesham  Bridge  but  last 
week." 

"Go  to  Wrokesham  Bridge,  and  see,"  shouted  a 
shrill  cracked  voice  from  behind  the  crowd. 

All  looked  round  ;  and  more  than  one  of  Ivo's  men 
set  up  a  yell,  the  hangman  loudest  of  all. 

"That's  he,  the  heron  again!  Catch  him!  Stop 
him  !  Shoot  him  !  " 

But  that  was  not  so  easy.  As  Ivo  pushed  his  horse 
through  the  crowd,  careless  of  whom  he  crushed,  he 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  285 

saw  a  long  lean  figure  flying  through  the  air  seven 
feet  aloft,  his  heels  higher  than  his  head,  on  the  further 
side  of  a  deep  broad  ditch  ;  and  on  the  nearer  side  of 
the  same,  one  of  his  best  men  lying  stark,  with  a 
cloven  skull. 

"Go  to  Wrokesham!"  shrieked  the  lean  man,  as 
he  rose,  and  showed  a  ridiculously  long  nose,  neck, 
and  legs  (a  type  still  not  uncommon  in  the  fens),  a 
quilted  leather  coat,  a  double-bladed  axe  slung  over 
his  shoulder  by  a  thong,  a  round  shield  at  his  back, 
and  a  pole  three  times  as  long  as  himself,  which  he 
dragged  after  him,  like  an  unwieldy  tail. 

"  The  heron,  the  heron  ! "  shouted  the  English. 

"  Follow  him,  men,  heron  or  hawk  ! "  shouted  Ivo, 
galloping  his  horse  up  to  the  ditch,  and  stopping 
short  at  fifteen  feet  of  water. 

"  Shoot,  some  one  !     Where  are  the  bows  gone  ?  " 

The  heron  was  away  two  hundred  yards,  running, 
in  spite  of  his  pole,  at  a  wonderful  pace,  before  a  bow 
could  be  brought  to  bear.  He  seemed  to  expect  an 
arrow,  for  he  stopped,  glanced  his  eye  round,  threw 
himself  flat  on  his  face,  with  his  shield,  not  over  his 
body,  but  over  his  bare  legs  ;  sprang  up  as  the  shaft 
stuck  in  the  ground  beside  him  ;  ran  on ;  planted  his 
pole  in  the  next  dyke,  and  flew  over  it. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was  beyond  pursuit,  and  Ivo 
turned,  breathless  with  rage,  to  ask  who  he  was. 

"  Alas,  sir,  he  is  the  man  who  set  free  the  four  men 
at  Wrokesham  bridge  last  week." 

"  Set  free  !     Are  they  not  hanged  and  dead  ?  " 

"We — we  dare  not  tell  you.  But  he  came  upon 
us " 

"Single-handed,  you  cowards?" 

"  Sir,  he  is  not  a  man,  but  a  witch  or  a  devil.  He 
asked  us  what  we  did  there.  One  of  our  men  laughed 
at  his  long  neck  and  legs,  and  called  him  Heron. 
'  Heron  I  am,'  says  he,  'and  strike  like  a  heron,  right 
at  the  eves,'  and  with  that  he  cuts  the  man  over  the 


286  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

face  with  his  axe,  and  laid  him  dead,  and  then 
another,  and  another." 

"  Till  you  all  ran  away,  villains." 

"  We  gave  back  a  step — no  more.  And  he  freed 
one  of  those  four,  and  he  again  the  rest ;  and  then 
they  all  set  on  us,  and  went  to  hang  us  in  their  own 
stead." 

"  When  there  were  ten  of  you,  I  thought." 

"Sir,  as  we  told  you,  he  is  no  mortal  man,  but  a 
fiend." 

"Beasts,  fools!  Well,  I  have  hanged  this  one,  at 
least !  "  growled  Ivo,  and  then  rode  sullenly  on. 

"Who  is  this  fellow?"  cried  he  to  the  trembling 
English. 

"  Wulfric  Raher,  Wulfric  the  Heron,  of  Wrokesham 
in  Norfolk." 

"Aha!  And  I  hold  a  manor  of  his,"  said  Ivo  to 
himself.  "  Look  you,  villains,  this  fellow  is  in  league 
with  you." 

A  burst  of  abject  denial  followed.  "  Since  the 
French — since  Sir  Frederick,  as  they  call  him,  drove 
him  out  of  his  Wrokesham  lands,  he  wanders  the 
country,  as  you  see  ;  to-day  here  :  but  Heaven  only 
knows  where  he  will  be  to-morrow." 

"And  finds,  of  course,  a  friend  everywhere.  Now 
march  ! "  and  a  string  of  threats  and  curses  followed. 

It  was  hard  to  see  why  Wulfric  should  not  have 
found  friends  ;  as  he  was  simply  a  small  holder,  or 
squire,  driven  out  of  house  and  land,  and  turned  adrift 
on  the  wide  world,  for  the  offence  of  having  fought 
in  Harold's  army  at  the  battle  of  Hastings.  But  to 
give  him  food  or  shelter  was,  in  Norman  eyes,  an 
act  of  rebellion  against  the  rightful  King  William  ; 
and  Ivo  rode  on,  boiling  over  with  righteous  indig- 
nation, along  the  narrow  drove  which  led  toward 
Deeping. 

A  pretty  lass  came  along  the  drove,  driving  a  few 
sheep  before  her,  and  spinning  as  she  walked. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE  287 

"  Whose  lass  are  you  ?  "  shouted  Ivo. 

"The  Abbot's  of  Crowland,  please  your  lordship," 
said  she,  trembling. 

"  Much  too  pretty  to  belong-  to  monks.  Chuck  her 
up  behind  you,  one  of  you." 

The  shrieking-  and  struggling  girl  was  mounted 
behind  a  horseman,  and  bound  ;  and  Ivo  rode  on. 

A  woman  ran  out  of  a  turf-hut  on  the  drove  side, 
attracted  by  the  girl's  cries.  It  was  her  mother. 

"My  lass!  Give  me  my  lass,  for  the  love  of  St. 
Mary  and.  all  saints  !  "  And  she  clung  to  Ivo's  bridle. 

He  struck  her  down,  and  rode  on  over  her. 

A  man  cutting  sedges  in  a  punt  in  the  lode  along- 
side, looked  up  at  the  girl's  shrieks,  and  leapt  on  shore, 
scythe  in  hand. 

"  Father  !  father  I "  cried  she. 

"  I'll  rid  thee,  lass,  or  die  for  it,"  said  he,  as  he 
sprang  up  the  drove-dyke,  and  swept  right  and  left  at 
the  horses'  legs. 

The  men  recoiled.  One  horse  went  down,  lamed  for 
life ;  another  staggered  backwards  into  the  further 
lode,  and  was  drowned.  But  an  arrow  went  through 
the  brave  serfs  heart,  and  Ivo  rode  on,  cursing  more 
bitterly  than  ever,  and  comforted  himself  by  flying  his 
hawks  at  a  covey  of  partridges. 

Soon  a  group  came  along  the  drove  which  promised 
fresh  sport  to  the  man-hunters  :  but  as  the  foremost 
person  came  up,  Ivo  stopped  in  wonder  at  the 
shout  of : 

"  Ivo  !  Ivo  Taillebois  !  Halt  and  have  a  care  !  The 
English  are  risen,  and  we  are  all  dead  men  !  " 

The  words  were  spoken  in  French ;  and  in  French 
Ivo  answered,  laughing : 

"  Thou  art  not  a  dead  man  yet  it  seems,  Sir  Robert ; 
art  going  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem,  that  thou 
comest  in  this  fashion  ?  Or  dost  thou  mean  to  return 
to  Anjou  as  bare  as  thou  earnest  out  of  it  ?  " 

For  Sir  Robert  had,  like  Edgar  in  Shakespeare's 


288  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Lear,   "reserved  himself  a  blanket,  else  had  they  all 
been  shamed." 

But  very  little  more  did  either  he,  his  lady,  and 
his  three  children  wear,  as  they  trudged  along  the 
drove,  in  even  poorer  case  than  that 

Robert  of  Coningsby, 
Who  came  out  of  Normandy, 
With  his  wife  Tiffany, 
And  his  maid  Maupas, 
And  his  dog"  Hardigras. 

"  For  the  love  of  Heaven  and  all  chivalry,  joke  me 
no  jokes,  Sir  Ivo  :  but  give  me  and  mine  clothes  and 
food.  The  barbarians  rose  on  us  last  night — with 
Azer,  the  ruffian  who  owned  my  lands,  at  their  head ; 
and  drove  us  out  into  the  night  as  we  are,  bidding 
us  carry  the  news  to  you,  for  your  turn  would  come 
next.  There  are  forty  or  more  of  them  in  West 
Deeping  now,  and  coming  eastward,  they  say,  to 
visit  you,  and  what  is  more  than  all,  Hereward  is 
come  again." 

"  Hereward  ?  "  cried  Ivo,  who  knew  that  name  full 
well. 

Whereon  Sir  Robert  told  him  the  terrible  tragedy 
of  Bourne. 

"  Mount  the  lady  on  a  horse,  and  wrap  her  in  my 
cloak.  Get  that  dead  villain's  clothes  for  Sir  Robert 
as  we  go  back.  Put  your  horses'  heads  about  and 
ride  for  Spalding." 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  the  lass  ?  " 

"  We  cannot  be  burdened  with  the  jade.  She  has 
cost  us  two  good  horses  already.  Leave  her  in  the 
road,  bound  as  she  is,  and  let  us  see  if  St.  Guthlac 
her  master  will  come  and  untie  her." 

So  they  rode  back.  Coming  from  Deeping  two 
hours  after,  Azer  and  his  men  found  the  girl  on  the 
road,  dead. 

"Another  count  in  the  long  score,"  quoth  Azer. 
But  when,  in  two  hours  more,  they  came  to  Spalding 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  289 

town,  they  found  all  the  folk  upon  the  street,  shouting 
and  praising  the  host  of  heaven.  There  was  not  a 
Frenchman  left  in  the  town. 

For  when  Ivo  returned  home,  ere  yet  Sir  Robert 
and  his  family  were  well  clothed  and  fed,  there 
galloped  into  Spalding-  from  the  north,  Sir  Ascelin, 
whilome  of  St.  Valeri,  nephew  and  man  of  Thorold, 
would-be  Abbot  of  Peterborough. 

"Notbad  news,  I  hope?"  cried  Ivo,  as  Ascelin  clanked 
into  the  hall.  "  We  have  enough  of  our  own.  Here 
is  all  Kesteven,  as  the  barbarians  call  it,  risen,  and 
they  are  murdering  us  right  and  left." 

"Worse  news  than  that,  Ivo  Taillebois" — "Sir," 
or  "  Sieur,"  Ascelin  was  loth  to  call  him,  being 
himself  a  man  of  family  and  fashion ;  and  holding 
the  nouveaux  venus  in  deep  contempt.  "  Worse 
news  than  that.  The  North  has  risen  again,  and 
proclaimed  Prince  Edgar  king." 

"A  king  of  words  !  What  care  I,  or  you,  as  long 
as  The  Mamzer,  God  bless  him,  is  a  king  of  deeds  ?  " 

"They  have  done  their  deeds,  though,  too. 
Gospatric  and  Marlesweyn  are  back  out  of  Scotland. 
They  attacked  Robert  de  Comines x  at  Durham,  and 
burnt  him  in  his  own  house.  There  was  but  one 
of  his  men  got  out  of  Durham  to  tell  the  news. 
And  now  they  have  marched  on  York ;  and  all  the 
chiefs,  they  say,  have  joined  them — Archill  the  Thane, 
and  Edwin  and  Morcar,  and  Waltheof  too,  the 
young  traitors." 

"Blessed  Virgin!"  cried  Ivo,  "thou  art  indeed 
gracious  to  thy  most  unworthy  knight  I  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"You  will  see  some  day.  Now,  I  will  tell  you 
but  one  word.  When  fools  make  hay,  wise  men 
build  ricks.  This  rebellion — if  it  had  not  come  of 
itself,  I  would  have  roused  it.  We  wanted  it,  to  cure 
William  of  this  just  and  benevolent  policy  of  his, 

1  Ancestor  of  the  Corny  ns  of  Scotland. 
H.W.  K 


29o  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

which  would  have  ended  in  sending-  us  back  to 
France,  as  poor  as  we  left  it.  Now,  what  am  I 
expected  to  do?  What  says  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  the 
wise  man  of  Lie — nic — what  the  pest  do  you  call 
that  outlandish  place,  which  no  civilised  lips  can 
pronounce  ?  " 

"  Lic-nic-cole  ? "  replied  Ascelin,  who,  like  the 
rest  of  the  French,  never  could  manage  to  say 
Lincoln.  "  He  says,  '  March  to  me,  and  with  me 
to  join  the  king  at  York.'  " 

"Then  he  says  well.  These  fat  acres  will  be 
none  the  leaner,  if  I  leave  the  English  slaves  to 
crop  them  for  six  months.  Men !  arm  and  horse 
Sir  Robert  of  Deeping-.  Then  arm  and  horse  your- 
selves. We  march  north  in  half  an  hour,  bag  and 
baggage,  scrip  and  scrippage.  You  are  all  bachelors, 
like  me,  and  travel  light.  So  off  with  you !  Sir 
Ascelin,  you  will  eat  and  drink  ?  " 

"That  will  I." 

"Quick,  then,  butler:  and  after  that  pack  up  the 
Englishman's  plate-chest,  which  we  inherited  by  right 
of  fist — the  only  plate,  and  the  only  title-deeds  I 
ever  possessed." 

"Now,  Sir  Ascelin" — as  the  three  knights,  the 
lady,  and  the  poor  children  ate  their  fastest — "listen 
to  me.  The  art  of  war  lies  in  this  one  nut-shell — 
to  put  the  greatest  number  of  men  into  one  place 
at  one  time,  and  let  all  other  places  shift ;  so  striking 
swiftly,  and  striking  heavily.  That  is  the  rule  of  our 
liege  lord  King  William  ;  and  by  it  he  will  conquer 
England,  or  the  world,  if  he  will ;  and  while  he 
does  that,  he  shall  never  say  that  Ivo  Taillebois 
stayed  at  home  to  guard  his  own  manors,  while 
he  could  join  his  king,  and  win  all  the  manors  of 
England  once  and  for  all." 

"Pardex!  whatever  men  may  say  of  thy  lineage 
or  thy  virtues,  they  cannot  deny  this — that  thou  art 
a  ;most  wise  and  valiant  captain." 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  291 

"That  am  I,"  quoth  Taillebois,  too  much  pleased 
with  the  praise  to  care  about  being  tutoye'  by  a 
younger  man.  "As  for  my  lineage,  my  lord  the  king 
has  a  fellow-feeling  for  upstarts  ;  and  the  woodman's 
grandson  may  very  well  serve  the  tanner's.  Now, 
men  !  is  the  litter  ready  for  the  lady  and  children  ? 
I  am  sorry  to  rattle  you  about  thus,  madame :  but 
war  has  no  courtesies  ;  and  march  I  must." 

And  so  the  French  went  out  of  Spalding  town. 

"Don't  be  in  a  hurry  to  thank  your  saints!" 
shouted  Ivo  to  his  victims.  "I  shall  be  back  this 
day  three  months ;  and  then  you  shall  see  a  row 
of  gibbets  all  the  way  from  here  to  Deeping,  and 
an  Englishman  hanging  on  every  one." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

HOW    HEREWARD    SAILED   FOR   ENGLAND    ONCE    AND 
FOR   ALL. 

So  Hereward  fought  the  Viscount  of  Pinkney,  who 
had  the  usual  luck  which  befell  those  who  crossed 
swords  with  him  ;  and  plotted  meanwhile  with  Gyda 
and  the  Countess  Judith.  Abbot  Egelsin  sent  them 
news  from  King  Sweyn  in  Denmark ;  soon  Judith 
and  Tosti's  two  sons  went  themselves  to  Sweyn, 
and  helped  the  plot  and  the  fitting  out  of  the 
armament.  News  they  had  from  England  in  plenty, 
by  messengers  from  Queen  Matilda  to  the  sister 
who  was  intriguing  to  dethrone  her  husband,  and 
by  private  messengers  from  Durham  and  from  York. 

Baldwin,  the  d^bonnaire  marquis,  had  not  lived 
to  see  this  fruit  of  his  long  efforts  to  please  everybody. 
He  had  gone  to  his  rest  the  year  before ;  and  now 
there  ruled  in  Bruges  his  son,  Baldwin  the  Good, 
"Count  Palatine,"  as  he  styled  himself,  and  his 
wife  Richilda,  the  Ladv  of  Hainault. 


292  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

They  probably  cared  as  little  for  the  success  of 
their  sister  Matilda,  as  they  did  for  that  of  their 
sister  Judith ;  and  followed  out — Baldwin  at  least — 
the  great  marquis's  plan  of  making-  Flanders  a  retreat 
for  the  fugitives  of  all  the  countries  round. 

At  least,  if  (as  seems)  Sweyn's  fleet  made  the  coast 
of  Flanders  its  rendezvous  and  base  of  operations 
against  King  William,  Baldwin  offered  no  resistance. 

So  the  messengers  came,  and  the  plots  went  on. 
Great  was  the  delight  of  Hereward  and  the  ladies 
when  they  heard  of  the  taking  of  Durham  and  York  : 
but  bitter  their  surprise  and  rage  when  they  heard 
that  Gospatric  and  the  Confederates  had  proclaimed 
Edgar  Atheling  king. 

"Fools!  they  will  ruin  all!"  cried  Gyda.  "Do 
they  expect  Sweyn  Ulfsson,  who  never  moved  a 
finger  yet,  unless  he  saw  that  it  would  pay  him  within 
the  hour,  to  spend  blood  and  treasure  in  putting  that 
puppet  boy  upon  the  throne  instead  of  himself  ?  " 

"Calm  yourself,  great  Countess,"  said  Hereward, 
with  a  smile.  ' '  The  man  who  puts  him  on  the  throne 
will  find  it  very  easy  to  take  him  off  again  when  he 
needs." 

"Pish!"  said  Gyda.  "He  must  put  him  on  the 
throne  first.  And  how  will  he  do  that?  Will  the 
men  of  the  Danelagh,  much  less  the  Northumbrians 
south  of  Tyne,  ever  rally  round  an  Atheling  of  Cerdic's 
house  ? " 

"Those  between  Tyne  and  Forth  will  join  him," 
said  Hereward.  "They  are  Saxons  like  himself." 

"And  who  are  they,  that  three-fourths  of  England 
should  be  scorned  for  their  sake  ?  If  their  cousins  of 
Wessex,  with  my  boys  at  their  head,  could  not  face 
this  Frenchman,  how  will  they?  It  is  in  my  blood 
and  my  kin,  in  the  Danelagh  and  the  Danes,  that  the 
strength  of  England  lies  :  and  not  in  a  handful  of 
Scotch  earls,  backed  by  a  barbarian  like  Malcolm.  If 
the  boy  Edgar  be  Gospatric's  cousin,  or  Malcolm's 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  *93 

brother-in-law,  what  is  that  to  England — or  indeed  to 
them?  The  boy  is  a  mere  stalking-horse,  behind 
which  each  of  these  greedy  chiefs  expects  to  get  back 
his  own  lands  in  the  North  ;  and  if  they  can  get  them 
back  by  any  other  means,  well  and  good.  Mark  my 
words,  Sir  Hereward,  that  cunning  Frenchman  will 
treat  with  them  one  by  one,  and  betray  them  one  by 
one,  till  there  is  none  left." 

How  far  Gyda  was  right  will  be  seen  hereafter.  But 
a  less  practised  diplomat  than  the  great  Countess 
might  have  speculated  reasonably  on  such  an  event. 
The  connection  between  Scotch  and  English  royalty 
was,  at  the  moment,  most  harmful  to  England.  But 
more  harmful  far  would  it  have  been,  had  the  Danish 
invasion  succeeded  ;  had  England  been  parted,  perhaps 
for  ever,  from  the  ruling  houses  of  Scotland ;  and 
become  a  mere  appanage  of  the  Scandinavian  kings. 

Then  came  darker  news.  As  Ivo  had  foreseen,  and 
as  Ivo  had  done  his  best  to  bring  about,  William 
dashed  on  York,  and  drove  out  the  Confederates  with 
terrible  slaughter;  profaned  the  churches,  plundered 
the  town.  Gospatric  and  the  earls  retreated  to 
Durham  ;  the  Atheling,  more  cautious,  to  Scotland. 

Then  came  a  strange  story,  worthy  of  the  grown 
children  who,  in  those  old  times,  bore  the  hearts  ot 
boys  with  the  ferocity  and  intellect  of  men. 

A  great  fog  fell  on  the  Frenchmen  as  they  struggled 
over  the  Durham  moors.  The  doomed  city  was  close 
beneath  them ;  they  heard  Wear  roaring  in  his 
wooded  gorge.  But  a  darkness,  as  of  Egypt,  lay 
upon  them  :  "  neither  rose  any  from  his  place." 

Then  the  Frenchman  cried,  "This  darkness  is 
from  St.  Cuthbert  himself.  We  have  invaded  his 
holy  soil.  Who  has  not  heard  how  none  who  offend 
St.  Cuthbert  ever  went  unpunished?  how  palsy, 
blindness,  madness,  fall  on  those  who  dare  to  violate 
his  sanctuary  ?  " 

And  the  French  turned  and  fled  from  before  the  face 


294  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

of  St.  Cuthbert ;  and  William  went  down  to 
Winchester  angry  and  sad,  and  then  went  off  to 
Gloucestershire  ;  and  hunted — for  whatever  befell,  he 
still  would  hunt — in  the  forest  of  Dean. 

And  still  Sweyn  and  his  Danes  had  not  sailed  ;  and 
Hereward  walked  to  and  fro  in  his  house,  impatiently, 
and  bided  his  time. 

In  July  Baldwin  died.  Arnoul,  the  boy,  was  Count 
of  Flanders,  and  Richilda,  his  sorceress-mother,  ruled 
the  land  in  his  name.  She  began  to  oppress  the 
Flemings  ;  not  those  of  French  Flanders,  round  St. 
Omer,  but  those  of  Flemish  Flanders,  toward  the 
north.  They  threatened  to  send  for  Robert  the  Prison 
to  right  them. 

Hereward  was  perplexed.  He  was  Robert  the 
Prison's  friend,  and  old  soldier.  Richilda  was 
Torfrida's  friend  ;  so  was,  still  more,  the  boy  Arnoul ; 
which  party  should  he  take?  Neither,  if  he  could 
help  it.  And  he  longed  to  be  safe  out  of  the  land. 

And  at  last  his  time  came.  Martin  Lightfoot  ran 
in,  breathless,  to  tell  how  the  sails  of  a  mighty  fleet 
were  visible  from  the  Dunes. 

"Here?"  cried  Hereward.  "What  are  the  fools 
doing  down  here,  wandering  into  the  very  jaws  of  the 
wolf?  How  will  they  land  here  ?  They  were  to  have 
gone  straight  to  the  Lincolnshire  coast.  God  grant 
this  mistake  be  not  the  first  of  dozens  !  " 

Hereward  went  into  Torfrida's  bower. 

"This  is  an  evil  business.  The  Danes  are  here, 
where  they  have  no  business,  instead  of  being  off 
Scheldtmouth,  as  I  entreated  them.  But  go  we  must, 
or  be  for  ever  shamed.  Now,  true  wife,  are  you 
ready  ?  Dare  you  leave  home,  and  kin,  and  friends, 
once  and  for  all,  to  go,  you  know  not  whither,  with 
one  who  may  be  a  gory  corpse  by  this  day  week  ?  " 

"  I  dare,"  said  she. 

So  they  went  down  the  Aa  by  night,  with  Torfrida's 
mother,  and  the  child,  and  all  their  jewels,  and  all 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  295 

they  had  in  the  world.  And  their  housecarles  went 
with  them,  forty  men,  tried  and  trained,  who  had 
vowed  to  follow  Hereward  round  the  world.  And 
there  were  two  long  ships  ready,  and  twenty  good 
mariners  in  each.  So  when  the  Danes  made  the 
South  Foreland  the  next  morning,  they  were  aware 
of  two  gallant  ships  bearing  down  on  them,  with  a 
strange  knot  embroidered  on  their  sails. 

A  proud  man  was  Hereward  that  day,  as  he  sailed 
into  the  midst  of  the  Danish  fleet,  and  up  to  the  royal 
ships,  and  shouted : 

"I  am  Hereward  The  Wake;  and  I  come  to  take 
service  under  my  rightful  lord,  Sweyn,  King  of 
England." 

"  Come  on  board,  then  ;  well  do  we  know  you,  and 
right  glad  we  are  to  have  The  Wake  with  us." 

And  Hereward  laid  his  ship's  bow  upon  the  quarter 
of  the  royal  ship  (to  lay  alongside  was  impossible,  for 
fear  of  breaking  oars),  and  came  on  board. 

"  And  thou  art  Hereward  ?  "  asked  a  tall  and  noble 
warrior. 

"  I  am.     And  thou  art  Sweyn  Ulffson,  the  king?  " 

"  I  am  Jarl  Asbiorn,  his  brother." 

"Then,  where  is  the  king?" 

"  He  is  in  Denmark,  and  I  command  his  fleet ;  and 
with  me  .Canute  and  Harold,  Sweyn's  sons,  and  Jarls 
and  Bishops  enough  for  all  England." 

This  was  spoken  in  a  somewhat  haughty  tone,  in 
answer  to  the  look  of  surprise  and  disappointment  which 
Hereward  had,  unawares,  allowed  to  pass  over  his  face. 

"Thou  art  better  than  none,"  said  Hereward. 
"  Now,  hearken,  Asbiorn  the  Jarl.  Had  Sweyn  been 
here,  I  would  have  put  my  hand  between  his,  and  said 
in  my  own  name,  and  that  of  all  the  men  in  Kesteven 
and  the  fens,  Sweyn's  men  we  are,  to  live  and  die  ! 
But  now,  as  it  is,  I  say,  for  me  and  them,  thy  men 
we  are,  to  live  and  die,  as  long  as  thou  art  true  to  us." 

"True  to  you  I  will  be,"  said  Asbiorn. 


296  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"Be  it  so,"  said  Hereward.  "True  we  shall  be. 
whatever  betide.  Now,  whither  goes  Jarl  Asbiorn, 
and  all  his  great  meinie  ?  " 

"  We  purpose  to  try  Dover." 

11  You  will  not  take  it.  The  Frenchman  has 
strengthened  it  with  one  of  his  accursed  keeps,  and 
without  battering  engines  you  may  sit  before  it  a 
month." 

"What  if  I  ask  you  to  go  in  thither  yourself,  and 
try  the  mettle  and  the  luck  which,  they  say,  never 
failed  Hereward  yet?  " 

"I  should  say  that  it  was  a  child's  trick  to  throw 
away  against  a  paltry  stone  wall  the  life  of  a  man 
who  was  ready  to  raise  for  you  in  Lincolnshire  and 
Cambridgeshire,  five  times  as  many  men  as  you  will 
lose  in  taking  Dover." 

"  Hereward  is  right,"  said  more  than  one  Jarl. 
"  We  shall  need  him  in  his  own  country." 

"If  you  are  wise,  to  that  country  you  yourselves 
will  go.  It  is  ready  to  receive  you.  This  is  ready  to 
oppose  you.  You  are  attacking  the  Frenchman  at 
his  strongest  point,  instead  of  his  weakest.  Did  I 
not  send  again  and  again,  entreating  you  to  cross 
from  Scheldtmouth  to  the  Wash,  and  send  me  word 
that  I  might  come  and  raise  the  Fen-men  for  you,  and 
then  we  would  all  go  north  together  ?  " 

"I  have  heard,  ere  now,"  said  Asbiorn  haughtily, 
"that  Hereward,  though  he  be  a  valiant  Viking,  is 
more  fond  of  giving  advice  than  of  taking  it." 

Hereward  was  about  to  answer  very  fiercely.  If 
he  had,  no  one  would  have  thought  any  harm,  in 
those  plain-spoken  times.  But  he  was  wise ;  and 
restrained  himself,  remembering  that  Torfrida  was 
there,  all  but  alone,  in  the  midst  of  a  fleet  of  savage 
men  ;  and  that  beside,  he  had  a  great  deed  to  do,  and 
must  do  it  as  he  could.  So  he  answered  : 

"Asbiorn  the  Jarl  has  not,  it  seems,  heard  this  of 
Hereward :  that  because  he  is  accustomed  to  com- 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  297 

mand,  he  is  also  accustomed  to  obey.  What  thou 
wilt  do,  do,  and  bid  me  do.  He  that  quarrels  with 
his  captain,  cuts  his  own  throat  and  his  fellows'  too." 

"Wisely  spoken!"  said  the  Jarls ;  and  Hereward 
went  back  to  his  ship. 

"Torfrida,"  said  he  bitterly,  "the  game  is  lost 
before  it  is  begun." 

"God  forbid,  my  beloved!  What  words  are 
these?" 

"Sweyn — fool  that  he  is  with  his  over-caution — 
always  the  same — has  let  the  prize  slip  from  between 
his  fingers.  He  has  sent  Asbiorn  instead  of  himself." 

"  But  why  is  that  so  terrible  a  mistake  ?  " 

"  We  do  not  want  a  fleet  of  Vikings  in  England,  to 
plunder  the  French  and  English  alike.  We  want  a 
king,  a  king,  a  king ! "  and  Hereward  stamped  with 
rage.  "And  instead  of  a  king,  we  have  this  Asbiorn 
— all  men  know  him — greedy,  and  false,  and  weak- 
headed.  Here  he  is  going  to  be  beaten  off  at  Dover  ; 
and  then,  I  suppose,  at  the  next  port ;  and  so  forth, 
till  the  whole  season  is  wasted,  and  the  ships  and  men 
lost  by  driblets.  Pray  for  us  to  God  and  His  saints, 
Torfrida,  you  who  are  nearer  to  heaven  than  I ;  for 
we  never  needed  it  more." 

So  Asbiorn  went  in  ;  tried  to  take  Dover ;  and  was 
beaten  off  with  heavy  loss. 

Then  the  Jarls  bade  him  take  Hereward's  advice. 
But  he  would  not. 

So  he  went  round  the  Foreland,  and  tried  Sandwich 
— as  if,  landing  there,  he  would  have  been  safe  in 
marching  on  London,  in  the  teeth  of  the  e'lite  of 
Normandy. 

But  he  was  beaten  off  there,  with  more  loss.  Then, 
too  late,  he  took  Hereward's  advice — or,  rather,  half 
of  it — and  sailed  north ;  but  only  to  commit  more 
follies. 

He  dared  not  enter  the  Thames.  He  would  not  go 
on  to  the  Wash  ;  but  he  went  into  the  Orwell,  and 


298  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

attacked  Ipswich,  plundering-  right  and  left,  instead  of 
proclaiming-  King  Sweyn,  and  calling  the  Danish  folk 
around  him.  They  naturally  enough  rose ;  and,  like 
valiant  men,  beat  him  off ;  while  Hereward  lay  outside 
the  river  mouth,  his  soul  within  him  black  with  dis- 
appointment, rage,  and  shame.  He  would  not  go  in. 
He  would  not  fight  against  his  own  countrymen.  He 
would  not  help  to  turn  the  whole  plan  into  a  maraud- 
ing raid.  And  he  told  Jarl  Asbiorn  so,  so  fiercely, 
that  his  life  would  have  been  in  danger,  had  not  the 
force  of  his  arm  been  as  much  feared  as  the  force  of 
his  name  was  needed. 

At  last  they  came  to  Yarmouth.  Asbiorn  would 
needs  land  there,  and  try  Norwich. 

Hereward  was  nigh  desperate  :  but  he  hit  upon  a 
plan.  Let  Asbiorn  do  so,  if  he  would.  He  himself 
would  sail  round  to  the  Wash,  raise  the  Fen-men,  and 
march  eastward  at  their  head  through  Norfolk  to 
meet  him.  Asbiorn  himself  could  not  refuse  so 
rational  a  proposal.  All  the  Jarls  and  Bishops 
approved  loudly  ;  and  away  Hereward  went  to  the 
Wash,  his  heart  well-nigh  broke,  foreseeing  nothing 
but  evil. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

HOW   HEREWARD   GATHERED   AN    ARMY. 

THE  voyage  round  the  Norfolk  coast  was  rough  and 
wild.  Torfrida  was  ill  ;  the  little  girl  was  ill ;  the  poor 
old  mother  was  so  ill  that  she  could  not  even  say  her 
prayers.  Packed  uncomfortably  under  the  awning  on 
the  poop,  Torfrida  looked  on  from  beneath  it  upon  the 
rolling  water-waste,  with  a  heart  full  of  gloomy  fore- 
bodings, and  a  brain  whirling-  with  wild  fancies. 
The  wreaths  of  cloud  were  gray  witches,  hurrying 
on  with  the  ship  to  work  her  woe  ;  the  low  red  storm- 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  299 

dawn  was  streaked  with  blood ;  the  water  which 
gurgled  all  night  under  the  lee  was  alive  with  hoarse 
voices  ;  and  again  and  again  she  started  from  fitful 
slumber  to  clasp  the  child  closer  to  her,  or  look  up  for 
comfort  to  the  sturdy  figure  of  her  husband,  as  he 
stood,  like  a  tower  of  strength,  steering  and  com- 
manding, the  long  night  through. 

Yes  ;  on  him  she  could  depend.  On  his  courage, 
on  his  skill.  And  as  for  his  love,  had  she  not  that 
utterly  ?  and  what  more  did  woman  need  ? 

But  she  was  going,  she  scarce  knew  whither  ;  and 
she  scarce  knew  for  what.  At  least,  on  a  fearful 
adventure,  which  might  have  a  fearful  end.  She 
looked  at  the  fair  child,  and  reproached  herself  for  a 
moment ;  at  the  poor  old  mother,  whining  and 
mumbling,  her  soft  southern  heart  quite  broken  by  the 
wild  chill  northern  sea-breeze  ;  and  reproached  herself 
still  more.  But  was  it  not  her  duty  ?  Him  she  loved, 
.and  his  she  was  ;  and  him  she  must  follow,  over  sea 
and  land,  till  death  ;  and  if  possible,  beyond  death 
again  for  ever.  For  his  sake  she  would  slave.  For 
his  sake  she  would  be  strong.  If  ever  there  rose  in 
her  a  home-sickness,  a  regret  for  leaving  Flanders, 
and  much  more  for  that  sunnier  South  where  she  was 
born,  he  at  least  should  never  be  saddened  or 
weakened  by  one  hint  of  her  sadness  and  weakness. 
And  so  it  befell  that,  by  the  time  they  made  the  coast, 
she  had  (as  the  old  chronicler  says)  "  altogether  con- 
quered all  womanly  softness." 

And  yet  she  shuddered  at  the  dreary  mud-creek  into 
which  they  ran  their  ships,  at  the  dreary  flats  on 
which  they  landed  shivering,  swept  over  by  the  keen 
north-eaci  wind.  A  lonely  land  ;  and  within,  she 
knew  not  what  of  danger,  it  might  be  of  hideous 
death. 

But  she  would  be  strong :  and  when  they  were  all 
landed,  men,  arms,  baggage,  and  had  pitched  the 
tents  which  the  wise  Hereward  had  brought  with 


300  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

them,  she  rose  up  like  a  queen,  and  took  her  little  one 
by  the  hand,  and  went  among  the  men,  and  spoke : 

"  Housecarles  and  mariners  !  You  are  following  a 
great  captain,  upon  a  great  adventure.  How  great 
he  is  you  know  as  well  as  I.  I  have  given  him  myself, 
my  wealth,  and  all  I  have ;  and  have  followed  him  I 
know  not  whither,  because  I  trust  him  utterly.  Men, 
trust  him  as  I  trust  him,  and  follow  him  to  the  death." 

11  That  we  will !" 

"  And  men,  I  am  here  among  you,  a  weak  woman, 
trying  to  be  brave  for  his  sake — and  for  yours.  Be 
true  to  me,  too,  as  I  have  been  true  to  you.  For 
your  sake  have  I  worked  hard,  day  and  night,  for 
many  a  year.  For  you  I  have  baked  and  brewed, 
and  cooked,  like  any  poor  churl's  wife.  Is  there  a 
garment  on  your  backs  which  my  hands  have  not 
mended?  Is  there  a  wound  on  your  limbs  which  my 
hands  have  not  salved?  Oh,  if  Torfrida  has  been 
true  to  you,  promise  me  this  day  that  you  will  be 
true  men  to  her  and  hers;  that  if — which  Heaven 
forbid — aught  should  befall  him  and  me,  you  will 
protect  this  my  poor  old  mother,  and  this  my  child, 
who  has  grown  up  amongst  you  all — a  lamb  brought 
up  within  the  lion's  den.  Look  at  her,  men,  and 
promise  me,  on  the  faith  of  valiant  soldiers,  that  you 
will  be  lions  on  her  behalf,  if  she  shall  ever  need  you. 
Promise  me,  that  if  you  have  but  one  more  stroke  left 
to  strike  on  earth,  you  will  strike  it  to  defend  the 
daughter  of  Hereward  and  Torfrida  from  cruelty  and 
shame." 

The  men  answered  with  a  shout  which  rolled  along 
the  fen,  and  startled  the  wild  fowl  up  from  far-off 
pools.  They  crowded  round  their  lady;  they  kissed 
her  hands;  they  bent  down  and  kissed  their  little 
playmate;  and  swore — one  by  God  and  His  apostles, 
and  the  next  by  Odin  and  Thor — that  she  should  be 
a  daughter  to  each  and  every  one  of  them,  as  long  as 
they  could  grip  steel  in  hand. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  301 

Then  (says  the  chronicler)  Hereward  sent  on  spies, 
to  see  whether  the  Frenchmen  were  in  the  land,  and 
how  folks  fared  at  Holbeach,  Spalding,  and  Bourne. 

The  two  young-  Siwards,  as  knowing-  the  country 
and  the  folk,  pushed  forward,  and  with  them  Martin 
Lightfoot,  to  bring1  back  news. 

Martin  ran  back  all  the  way  from  Holbeach,  the 
very  first  day,  with  right  good  tidings.  There  was 
not  a  Frenchman  in  the  town.  Neither  was  there, 
they  said,  in  Spalding-.  Ivo  Taillebois  was  still  away 
at  the  wars,  and  long  might  he  stay. 

So  forward  they  marched,  and  everywhere  the  lands- 
folk  were  tilling  the  ground  in  peace  ;  and  when  they 
saw  that  stout  array,  they  hurried  out  to  meet  the 
troops,  and  burdened  them  with  food,  and  ale,  and 
all  they  needed. 

And  at  Holbeach,  and  at  Spalding,  Hereward  split 
up  the  war-arrow,  and  sent  it  through  Kesteven, 
and  south  into  the  Cambridge  fens,  calling  on  all 
men  to  arm,  and  come  to  him  at  Bourne,  in  the  name 
of  Waltheof  and  Morcar,  the  Earls. 

And  at  every  farm  and  town  he  blew  the  war-horn, 
and  summoned  every  man  who  could  bear  arms  to 
be  ready,  against  the  coming  of  the  Danish  host  from 
Norwich.  And  so  through  all  the  fens  came  true  what 
the  wild  fowl  said  upon  the  meres,  that  The  Wake 
was  come  again. 

And  when  he  came  to  Bourne,  all  men  were  tilling 
in  peace.  The  terror  of  The  Wake  had  fallen  on  the 
Frenchmen ;  and  no  man  had  dared  to  enter  on  his 
inheritance,  or  to  set  a  French  foot  over  the  threshold 
of  that  ghastly  hall,  above  the  gable  whereof  still 
grinned  the  fifteen  heads ;  on  the  floor  whereof  still 
spread  the  dark  stains  of  blood. 

Only  Gery  dwelt  in  a  corner  of  the  house,  and 
with  him  Leofric,  once  a  roystering  housecarle  of 
Hereward's  youth  ;  now  a  monk  of  Crowland,  and 
a  deacon,  whom  Lady  Godiva  had  sent  thither  that 


302  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

he  might  take  care  of  her  poor.  And  there  Gery  and 
Leofric  had  kept  house,  and  told  sagas  to  each  other 
over  the  beech-log  fire  night  after  night ;  for  all 
Leofric's  study  was,  says  the  chronicler,  "to  gather 
together  for  the  edification  of  his  hearers  all  the 
acts  of  giants  and  warriors  out  of  the  fables  of  the 
ancients,  or  from  faithful  report ;  and  to  commit 
them  to  writing,  that  he  might  keep  England  in  mind 
thereof.  Which  Leofric  was  afterwards  ordained 
priest,  probably  in  Ely,  by  Bishop  Egelwin  of  Dur- 
ham ;  and  was  Hereward's  chaplain  for  many  a  year. 

Then  Hereward,  as  he  had  promised,  set  fire  to 
the  three  farms  close  to  the  Bruneswold ;  and  all 
his  outlawed  friends,  lurking  in  the  forest,  knew  by 
that  signal  that  Hereward  was  come  again.  So  they 
cleansed  out  the  old  house,  though  they  did  not  take 
down  the  heads  from  off  the  gable ;  and  Torfrida 
went  about  the  town,  and  about  it,  and  confessed 
that  England  was  after  all  a  pleasant  place  enough. 
And  they  were  as  happy,  it  may  be,  for  a  week  or 
two,  as  ever  they  had  been  in  their  lives. 

"And  now,"  said  Torfrida,  "while  you  see  to  your 
army,  I  must  be  doing ;  for  I  am  a  lady  now,  and 
mistress  of  great  estates.  So  I  must  be  seeing  to 
the  poor." 

"  But  you  cannot  speak  their  tongue." 

"Can  I  not?  Do  you  think  that  in  the  face  of 
coming  to  England,  and  fighting  here,  and  plotting 
here,  and  being,  may  bes  an  Earl's  Countess,  I  have 
not  made  Martin  Lightfoot  teach  me  your  English 
tongue,  till  I  can  speak  it  as  well  as  you?  I  kept 
that  hidden  as  a  surprise  for  you,  that  you  might 
find  out,  when  you  most  needed,  how  Torfrida  loved 
you." 

"As  if  I  had  not  found  out  already!     Oh,  woman, 
woman  !     I  verily  believe  that  God  made  you  alone, 
and  left  the  devil  to  make  us  butchers  of  men." 

Meanwhile  went    round  through  all  the  fens,  and 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  303 

north  into  the  Bruneswold,  and  away  again  to  Lincoln 
and  merry  Sherwood,  that  The  Wake  was  come  again. 
And  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  keeping  Lincoln  Castle  for  the 
Conqueror,  was  perplexed  in  mind,  and  looked  well 
to  gates,  and  bars,  and  sentinels ;  for  Hereward  sent 
him  at  once  a  message,  that  forasmuch  as  he  had 
forgotten  his  warning  in  Bruges  street,  and  put  a 
rascal  cook  into  his  mother's  manors,  he  should  ride 
Odin's  horse  on  the  highest  ash  in  the  Bruneswold. 

On  which  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  inquiring  what  Odin's 
horse  might  be,  and  finding  it  to  signify  the  ash  tree 
whereon,  as  sacred  to  Odin,  thieves  were  hanged 
by  Danes  and  Norse,  made  answer  : 

That  he  Gilbert  had  not  put  his  cook  into  Bourne, 
nor  otherwise  harmed  Hereward  or  his.  That  Bourne 
had  been  seized  by  the  king  himself,  together  with 
Earl  Morcar's  lands  in  those  parts,  as  all  men  knew. 
That  the  said  cook  so  pleased  the  king  with  a  dish 
of  stewed  eel-pout,  which  he  served  up  to  him  at 
Cambridge,  and  which  the  king  had  never  eaten 
before,  that  the  king  begged  the  said  cook  of  him 
Gilbert  and  took  him  away ;  and  that  after,  so  he 
heard,  the  said  cook  had  begged  the  said  manor  of 
Bourne  of  the  king,  without  the  knowledge  or  consent 
of  him  Gilbert.  That  he  therefore  knew  nought  of 
the  matter.  That  if  Hereward  meant  to  keep  the 
king's  peace,  he  might  live  in  Bourne  till  Doomsday, 
for  aught  he  Gilbert  cared  ;  but  that  if  he  and  his 
men  meant  to  break  the  king's  peace,  and  attack 
Lincoln  city,  he  Gilbert  would  nail  their  skins  to  the 
door  of  Lincoln  Cathedral,  as  they  used  to  do  by 
the  heathen  Danes  in  old  time.  And  that,  therefore, 
they  now  understood  each  other. 

At  which  Hereward  laughed,  and  said,  that  they 
had  done  that  for  many  a  year. 

And  now  poured  into  Bourne  from  every  side  brave 
men  and  true,  some  great  holders  dispossessed  of 
their  land  ;  some  the  sons  of  holders  who  were  not 


304  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

yet  dispossessed  ;  some  Morcar's  men,  some  Edwin's, 
who  had  been  turned  out  by  the  king ;  and  almost 
all  of  them,  probably,  blood  relations  of  Hereward's, 
or  of  King  Harold's,  or  of  each  other. 

To  him  came  "Guenoch  and  Alutus  Gurgan,  fore- 
most in  all  valour  and  fortitude,  tall  and  large,  and 
ready  for  work,"  and  with  them  their  three  nephews, 
Godwin  Gille,  "so  called  because  he  was  not  inferior 
to  that  Godwin  Guthlacsson  who  is  preached  much 
in  the  fables  of  the  ancients,"  and  "  Douti  and  Outi, 
the  twins,  alike  in  face  and  manners  "  ;  and  Godric, 
the  knight  of  Corby,  nephew  of  the  "Count  of  War- 
wick, and  thus,  probably,  Hereward's  first  cousin 
or  nephew  "  ;  and  Tosti  of  Davenesse,  his  kinsman  ; 
and  Azer  Vass,  whose  father  had  possessed  Lincoln 
Tower ;  and  Leofwin  Moue — that  is,  the  scythe,  so 
called,  "  because  when  he  was  mowing  all  alone, 
and  twenty  country  folk  set  on  him  with  pitchforks 
and  javelins,  he  slew  and  wounded  almost  every  one, 
sweeping  his  scythe  among  them  as  one  that  moweth  "  ; 
and  Wluncus  the  Blackface,  so  called  because  he  once 
blackened  his  face  with  coal,  and  came  unknown 
among  the  enemy,  and  slew  ten  of  them  with  one 
lance;  and  "Turbertin,  a  great  grandson  (?)  of  Earl 
Edwin  "  ;  and  Leofwin  Prat  (perhaps  the  ancestor  of 
the  ancient  and  honourable  house  of  Pratt  of  Ryston), 
so  called  from  his  ' '  Praet "  or  craft,  ' '  because  he 
had  often  escaped  cunningly  when  taken  by  the  enemy, 
having  more  than  once  killed  his  keepers  "  ;  and  the 
steward  of  Drayton ;  and  Thurkill,  and  Utlamhe, 
i.e.  the  outlaw,  Hereward's  cook  ;  and  Oger,  Here- 
ward's kinsman  ;  and  "  Winter  and  Liveret,  two  very 
famous  ones  "  ;  and  Ranald  the  Seneschal  of  Ramsey — 
"  he  was  the  standard  bearer  "  ;  and  Wulfric  the  Black 
and  Wulfric  the  White ;  and  Hugh  the  Norman,  a 
priest ;  and  Wulfard,  his  brother ;  and  Tosti  and 
Godwin  of  Rothwell ;  and  Alsin,  and  Hurkill ;  and 
Hugh  the  Breton,  who  was  Hereward's  chaplain  ;  and 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  305 

Whishaw,  his  brother,  "a  magnificent  knight,  which 
two  came  with  him  from  Flanders  "  ; — and  so  forth  : — 
names  merely,  of  whom  naught  is  known,  save,  in 
a  few  cases,  from  Domesday  Book,  the  manors  which 
they  held.  But  honour  to  their  very  names.  Honour 
to  the  last  heroes  of  the  old  English  race. 

These  valiant  gentlemen,  with  the  housecarles  whom, 
more  or  fewer,  they  would  bring  with  them,  constituted 
a  formidable  force,  as  after  years  proved  well.  But 
having  got  his  men,  Hereward's  first  care  was,  doubt- 
less, to  teach  them  that  art  of  war,  of  which  they,  like 
true  Englishmen,  knew  nothing. 

The  art  of  war  has  changed  little,  if  at  all,  by 
the  introduction  of  gunpowder.  The  campaigns  of 
Hannibal  and  Caesar  succeeded  by  the  same  tactics  as 
those  of  Frederic  or  Wellington ;  and  so,  as  far  as 
we  can  judge,  did  those  of  the  master-general  of  his 
age,  William  of  Normandy. 

But  of  those  tactics  the  English  knew  nothing. 
Their  armies  were  little  more  than  tumultuous  levies, 
in  which  men  marched  and  fought  under  local  leaders, 
often  divided  by  local  jealousies.  The  commissariats 
of  the  armies  seem  to  have  been  so  worthless,  that 
they  had  to  plunder  friends  as  well  as  foes  as  they 
went  along ;  and  with  plunder  came  every  sort  of 
excess — as  when  the  Northern  men,  marching  down 
to  meet  Harold  Godwinsson,  and  demand  young  Edwin 
as  their  Earl,  laid  waste,  seemingly  out  of  mere  brute 
wantonness,  the  country  round  Northampton,  which 
must  have  been  in  Edwin's  earldom,  or  at  least  in 
that  of  his  brother  Morcar.  And  even  the  local 
leaders  were  not  over-well  obeyed.  The  reckless 
spirit  of  personal  independence,  especially  among  the 
Anglo-Danes,  prevented  anything  like  discipline,  or 
organised  movement  of  masses ;  and  made  every 
battle  degenerate  into  a  confusion  of  single  combats. 

But  Hereward  had  learned  that  art  of  war,  which 
enabled  the  French  to  crush  piecemeal  with  inferior 


306  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

numbers,  the  vast  but  straggling  levies  of  the  English. 
His  men,  mostly  outlaws  and  homeless,  kept  together 
by  the  pressure  from  without,  and  free  from  local 
jealousies,  resembled  rather  an  army  of  professional 
soldiers  than  a  country  posse  comitatus.  And  tc 
the  discipline  which  he  instilled  into  them ;  to  his 
ability  in  marching  and  manoeuvring  troops  ;  to  his 
care  for  their  food  and  for  their  transport ;  possibly 
also  to  his  training  them  in  that  art  of  fighting  on 
horseback  in  which  the  men  of  Wessex,  if  not  the 
Anglo-Danes  of  the  East,  are  said  to  have  been  quite 
unskilled, — in  short,  to  all  that  he  had  learned  as  a 
mercenary  under  Robert  the  Prison,  and  among  the 
highly  civilised  warriors  of  Flanders  and  Normandy, 
must  be  attributed  the  fact,  that  he  and  his  little  army 
defied  for  years  the  utmost  efforts  of  the  Frenchmen  ; 
appearing  and  disappearing  with  such  strange  swift- 
ness, and  conquering  against  such  strange  odds,  as 
enshrouded  the  guerilla  captain  in  an  atmosphere 
of  myth  and  wonder,  only  to  be  accounted  for,  in 
the  mind  of  French  as  well  as  English,  by  the  super- 
natural counsels  of  his  sorceress  wife. 

But  Hereward  grew  anxious  and  more  anxious,  as 
days  and  weeks  went  on,  and  yet  there  was  no  news 
of  Asbiorn  and  his  Danes  at  Norwich.  Time  was 
precious.  He  had  to  march  his  little  army  to  the 
Wash,  and  then  transport  it  by  boats — no  easy  matter 
— to  Lynn  in  Norfolk,  as  his  nearest  point  of  attack. 
And  as  the  time  went  on,  Earl  Warren  and  Ralph  de 
Guader  would  have  gathered  their  forces  between 
him  and  the  Danes  ;  and  a  landing  at  Lynn  might 
become  impossible.  Meanwhile  there  were  bruits  of 
great  doings  in  the  north  of  Lincolnshire.  Young 
Earl  Waltheof  was  said  to  be  there,  and  Edgar  the 
Atheling  with  him  :  but  what  it  portended,  no  man 
knew.  Morcar  was  said  to  have  raised  the  centre 
of  Mercia,  and  to  be  near  Stafford  ;  Edwin  to  have 
raised  the  Welsh,  and  to  be  at  Chester  with  Aldytha 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  307 

his  sister  And  Hereward  sent  spies  along  the 
Ermine  Street — the  only  road,  then,  toward  the  north- 
west of  England — and  spies  northward  along-  the 
Roman  road  to  Lincoln.  But  the  former  met  the 
French  in  force  near  Nottingham,  and  came  back 
much  faster  than  they  went.  And  the  latter  stumbled 
on  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  riding  out  of  Lincoln  to  Folking- 
ham,  and  had  to  flee  into  the  fens,  and  came  back 
much  slower  than  they  went. 

At  last  news  came.  For  into  Bourne  stalked 
Walfric  the  Heron,  with  axe,  and  bow,  and  leaping- 
pole  on  shoulder ;  and  an  evil  tale  he  brought. 

The  Danes  had  been  beaten  utterly  at  Norwich. 
Ralph  de  Guader  and  his  Frenchmen  had  fought  like 
lions.  They  had  killed  many  Danes  in  the  assault 
on  the  castle.  They  had  sallied  out  on  them  as  they 
recoiled ;  and  driven  them  into  the  river,  drowning 
many  more.  The  Danes  had  gone  down  the  Yare 
again,  and  out  to  sea  northward,  no  man  knew 
whither.  He,  the  Heron,  prowling  about  the  fenlands 
of  Norfolk  to  pick  off  straggling  Frenchmen  and  look 
out  for  the  Danes,  had  heard  all  the  news  from  the 
landsfolk.  He  had  watched  the  Danish  fleet  along 
the  shore  as  far  as  Blakeney.  But  when  they  came 
to  the  isle,  they  stood  out  to  sea,  right  north-west. 
He,  the  Heron,  believed  that  they  were  gone  for 
Humber-mouth. 

After  a  while,  he  had  heard  how  Hereward  was 
come  again,  and  had  sent  round  the  war-arrow  ;  and 
it  seemed  to  him  that  a  landless  man  could  be  in  no 
better  company ;  wherefore  he  had  taken  boat,  and 
come  across  the  deep  fen.  And  there  he  was,  if  they 
had  need  of  him. 

"Need  of  you?"  said  Hereward,  who  had  heard 
of  the  deed  at  Wrokesham  Bridge.  "Need  of  a 
hundred  like  you.  But  this  is  bitter  news." 

And  he  went  in  to  ask  counsel  of  Torfrida,  ready 
to  weep  with  rage.  He  had  disappointed — deceived 


3o8  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

his  men.  He  had  drawn  them  into  a  snare.  He  had 
promised  that  the  Danes  should  come.  How  should 
he  look  them  in  the  face  ? 

' '  Look  them  in  the  face  ?  Do  that  at  once  :  now  : 
without  losing  a  moment.  Call  them  together  and 
tell  them  all.  If  their  hearts  are  staunch,  you  may 
do  great  things  without  the  traitor  Earl.  If  their 
hearts  fail  them,  you  would  have  done  nothing  with 
them  worthy  of  yourself,  had  you  had  Norway  as 
well  as  Denmark  at  your  back.  At  least,  be  true 
with  them,  as  your  only  chance  of  keeping  them 
true  to  you." 

"Wise,  wise  wife,"  said  Hereward,  and  went  out  and 
called  his  band  together,  and  told  them  every  word, 
and  all  that  had  passed  since  he  left  Calais  Straits. 

"And  now  I  have  deceived  you,  and  entrapped  you, 
and  I  have  no  right  to  be  your  captain  more.  He 
that  will  depart  in  peace,  let  him  depart,  before  the 
Frenchmen  close  in  on  us  on  every  side  and  swallow 
us  up  at  one  mouthful." 

Not  a  man  answered. 

"  I  say  it  again :  He  that  will  depart,  let  him 
depart." 

They  stood  thoughtful. 

Ranald  of  Ramsey  drove  the  Wake-knot  banner 
firm  into  the  earth,  tucked  up  his  monk's  frock,  and 
threw  his  long  axe  over  his  shoulder,  as  if  preparing 
for  action. 

Winter  spoke  at  last. 

"  If  all  go,  there  are  two  men  here  who  stay,  and 
fight  by  Hereward's  side  as  long  as  there  is  a  French- 
man left  on  English  soil ;  for  they  have  sworn  an  oath 
to  Heaven  and  to  St.  Peter,  and  that  oath  will  they 
keep.  What  say  you,  Gwenoch,  knighted  with  us  at 
Peterborough  ?  " 

Gwenoch  stepped  to  Hereward's  side. 

"  None  shall  go  !  "  shouted  a  dozen  voices.  "  With 
Hereward  we  will  live  and  die.  Let  him  lead  us  to 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKB.  309 

Lincoln,  to  Nottingham — where  he  will.    We  can  save 
England  for  ourselves  without  the  help  of  Danes." 

"It  iswell  for  one  a  least  of  you,  gentlemen,  that 
you  are  in  this  pleasant  mind,"  quoth  Ranald  the 
monk. 

"Well  for  all  of  us,  thou  valiant  purveyor  of  beef 
and  beer." 

"  Well  for  one.  For  the  first  man  that  had  turned 
to  go,  1  would  have  brained  him  with  this  axe." 

"And  now,  gallant  gentlemen,"  said  Hereward, 
"we  must  take  new  counsel,  as  our  old  has  failed. 
Whither  shall  we  go  ?  For  stay  here,  eating  up  the 
country,  we  must  not  do." 

"  They  say  that  Waltheof  is  in  Lindsey,  raising  the 
landsfolk.  Let  us  go  and  join  him." 

"  We  can  at  least  find  what  he  means  to  do.  There 
can  be  no  better  counsel.  Let  us  march.  Only  we 
must  keep  clear  of  Lincoln  as  yet.  I  hear  that  Gilbert 
has  a  strong  garrison  there ;  and  we  are  not  strong 
enough  yet  to  force  it." 

So  they  rode  north,  and  up  the  Roman  road  toward 
Lincoln,  sending  out  spies  as  they  went;  and  soon 
they  had  news  of  Waltheof.  News,  too,  that  he  was 
between  them  and  Lincoln. 

"  Then  the  sooner  we  are  with  him,  the  better  :  for 
he  will  find  himself  in  trouble  ere  long,  if  old  Gilbert 
comes  up  with  him.  So  run  your  best,  footmen,  for 
forward  we  must  get." 

And  as  they  came  up  the  Roman  road,  they  were 
aware  of  a  great  press  of  men  in  front  of  them,  and 
hard  fighting  toward. 

Some  of  the  English  would  have  spurred  forward 
at  once.  But  Hereward  held  them  back  with  loud 
reproaches. 

"  Will  you  forget  all  I  have  told  you  in  the  first 
skirmish,  like  so  many  dogs  when  they  see  a  bull? 
Keep  together  for  five  minutes  more.  The  pot  will 
not  be  cool  before  we  get  our  sup  of  it.  I  verily 


3io  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE 

believe  that  it  is  Waltheof:  and  that  Gilbert  has 
caught  him  already." 

As  he  spoke,  one  part  of  the  combatants  broke  up, 
and  fled  right  and  left ;  and  a  knight  in  full  armour 
galloped  furiously  down  the  road  right  at  them, 
followed  by  two  or  three  more. 

"  Here  comes  some  one  very  valiant  or  very  much 
ateard,"  said  Hereward,  as  the  horseman  rode  rip;ht 
upon  him,  shouting : 

"I  am  the  king*!" 

"The  king?"  roared  Hereward,  and  dropping  his 
lance,  spurred  his  horse  forward,  kicking  his  feet  clear 
of  the  stirrups.  He  caught  the  knight  round  the  neck, 
dragged  him  over  his  horse's  tail,  and  fell  with  him  to 
the  ground. 

The  armour  clashed  ;  the  sparks  flew  trom  the  old 
gray  Roman  flints  ;  and  Hereward,  rolling  over  once, 
rose,  and  knelt  upon  his  prisoner. 

' '  William  of  Normandy  !  yield  or  die  !  " 

The  knight  lay  still  and  stark. 

"  Ride  on ! "  cried  Hereward  from  the  ground. 
"  Ride  at  them  and  strike  hard  !  You  will  soon  find 
out  which  is  which.  This  booty  I  must  pick  for 
myself.  What  are  you  doing?"  roared  he  after  his 
knights.  "Spread  off  the  road,  and  keep  your  line, 
as  I  told  you,  and  don't  override  each  other !  Curse 
the  hot-headed  fools  !  The  French  will  scatter  them 
like  sparrows.  Run  on,  men-at-arms,  to  stop  the 
French  if  we  are  broken.  And  don't  forget  Guisnes 
field  and  the  horses'  legs.  Now,  king,  are  you  come 
to  life  yet  ?  " 

"  You  have  killed  him,"  quoth  Leofric  the  deacon, 
whom  Hereward  had  beckoned  to  stop  with  him. 

"I  hope  not.  Lend  me  a  knife.  He  is  a  much 
slighter  man  than  I  fancied,"  said  Hereward,  as  they 
got  his  helmet  off. 

And  when  it  was  off,  both  started  and  stared.  For 
they  had  uncovered,  not  the  beetling  brow,  Roman 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  311 

nose,  and  firm  curved  lip  of  the  Ulysses  of  the  middle 
age,  but  the  face  of  a  fair  lad,  with  long-  straw-coloured 
hair,  and  soft  blue  eyes  staring  into  vacancy. 

"Who  are  you?  "shouted  Hereward,  saying  very 
bad  words,  "who  come  here,  aping  the  name  of 
king?" 

"  Mother  !  Christina  !  Margaret !  Waltheof  Earl !  " 
moaned  the  lad,  raising  his  head  and  letting  it  fall 
again. 

"  It  is  the  Atheling  !  "  cried  Leofric. 

Hereward  rose,  and  stood  over  the  boy. 

"  Ah  !  what  was  I  doing  to  handle  him  so  tenderly  ? 
I  took  him  for  The  Mamzer,  and  thought  of  a  king's 
ransom." 

"  Do  you  call  that  tenderly  ?  You  have  nigh  pulled 
the  boy's  head  off." 

"  Would  that  I  had  !  Ah  !  "  went  on  Hereward, 
apostrophising  the  unconscious  Atheling,  "ah,  that  I 
had  broken  that  white  neck  once  and  for  all !  To  have 
sent  thee  feet  foremost  to  Winchester,  to  lie  by  thy 
grandfathers  and  great-grandfathers,  and  then  to  tell 
Norman  William  that  he  must  fight  it  out  henceforth 
not  with  a  straw  malkin  like  thee,  which  the  very  crows 
are  not  afraid  to  perch  on,  but  with  a  cock  of  a  very 
different  hackle,  Sweyn  Ulffson,  King  of  Denmark." 

And  Hereward  drew  Brain-biter. 

"  For  mercy's  sake  !  you  will  not  harm  the  lad  ?  " 

"  If  I  were  a  wise  man  now,  and  hard-hearted  as 

wise  men  should  be,  I  should — I  should "  and  he 

played  the  point  of  the  sword  backwards  and  forwards, 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  lad's  throat. 

"Master!  master!"  cried  Leofric,  clinging  to  his 
knees;  "by  all  the  saints!  What  would  Our  Lady 
in  Heaven  say  to  such  a  deed  ?  " 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  are  right.  And  1  fear  what 
our  lady  at  home  might  say  likewise  :  and  we  must  not 
do  anything  to  vex  her,  you  know.  Well,  let  us  do  it 
handsomely,  if  we  must  do  it.  Get  water  somewhere, 


312 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 


in  his  helmet.  No,  you  need  not  linger.  I  will  not 
cut  his  throat  before  you  come  back." 

Leofric  went  off  in  search  of  water ;  and  Here  ward 
knelt  with  the  Atheling's  head  on  his  knee,  and  on 
his  lip  a  sneer  at  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth.  To 
have  that  lad  stand  between  him  and  all  his  projects  : 
and  to  be  forced,  for  honour's  sake,  to  let  him  stand  ! 

But  soon  his  men  returned,  seemingly  in  high  glee, 
and  other  knights  with  them. 

"  Hey,  lads  !  "  said  he,  "I  aimed  at  the  falcon  and 
shot  the  goose.  Here  is  Edgar  Atheling  prisoner. 
Shall  we  put  him  to  ransom  ?  " 

"He  has  no  money,  and  Malcolm  of  Scotland  is 
much  too  wise  to  lend  him  any,"  said  some  one.  And 
some  more  rough  jokes  passed. 

"  Do  you  know,  sirs,  that  he  who  lies  there  is  your 
king  ?  "  asked  a  very  tall  and  noble-looking  knight. 

"That  do  we  not,"  said  Hereward  sharply.  "  There 
is  no  king  in  England  this  day,  as  far  as  I  know.  And 
there  will  be  none  north  of  the  Watling  Street,  till  he 
be  chosen  in  full  busting,  and  anointed  at  York,  as 
well  as  at  Winchester  or  London.  We  have  had  one 
king  made  for  us  in  the  last  forty  years,  and  we  intend 
to  make  the  next  ourselves." 

"And  who  art  thou,  who  talkest  so  bold  of  king- 
making  ?  " 

"And  who  art  thou,  who  askest  so  bold  who 
I  am  ?  " 

"  I  am  Waltheof  Siwardsson,  the  Earl,  and  yon  is 
my  army  behind  me." 

"And  I  am  Hereward  Leofricsson,  the  Wake,  and 
yon  is  my  army  behind  me." 

If  the  two  champions  had  flown  at  each  other's 
throats,  and  their  armies  had  followed  their  example, 
simply  as  dogs  fly  at  each  other  they  know  not  why, 
no  one  would  have  been  astonished  in  those  unhappy 
times. 

But  it  fell  not  out  upon  that  wise ;  for  Waltheof, 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  313 

leaping  from  his  horse,  pulled  off  his  helmet,  and 
seizing"  Hereward  by  both  hands,  cried  : 

' '  Blessed  is  the  day  which  sees  again  in  England 
Hereward,  who  has  upheld  throughout  all  lands  and 
seas  the  honour  of  English  chivalry  !  " 

"And  blessed  is  the  day  in  which  Hereward  meets 
the  head  of  the  house  of  Siward  where  he  should  be, 
at  the  head  of  his  own  men,  in  his  own  earldom. 
When  I  saw  my  friend,  thy  brother  Asbiorn  Bulax, 
brought  into  the  camp  at  Dunsinane  with  all  his 
wounds  in  front,  I  wept  a  young  man's  tears,  and 
said,  '  There  ends  the  glory  of  the  White  -  Bears' 
house ! '  But  this  day  I  say — The  White-Bears' 
blood  is  risen  from  the  grave  in  Waltheof  Siwardsson, 
who  with  his  single  axe  kept  the  gate  of  York  against 
all  the  army  of  the  French  ;  and  who  shall  keep  against 
them  all  England,  if  he  will  be  as  wise  as  he  is  brave." 

Was  Hereward  honest  in  his  words?  Hardly  so. 
He  wished  to  be  honest.  As  he  looked  upon  that 
magnificent  young  man,  he  hoped  and  trusted  that  his 
words  were  true.  But  he  gave  a  second  look  at  the 
face,  and  whispered  to  himself,  "Weak,  weak.  He 
will  be  led  by  priests  :  perhaps  by  William  himself.  I 
must  be  courteous  :  but  confide  I  must  not." 

The  men  stood  round,  and  looked  with  admiration 
on  the  two  most  splendid  Englishmen  then  alive. 
Hereward  had  taken  off  his  helmet  likewise,  and  the 
contrast  between  the  two  was  as  striking  as  the  com- 
pleteness of  each  of  them  in  his  own  style  of  beauty. 
It  was  the  contrast  between  the  slow-hound  and  the 
deer-hound  :  each  alike  high-couraged  and  high-bred  ; 
but  the  former,  short,  sturdy,  cheerful,  and  sagacious  ; 
the  latter  tall,  stately,  melancholy,  and  not  over  wise 
withal. 

Waltheof  was  a  full  head  and  shoulders  taller  than 
Hereward.  He  was  one  of  the  tallest  men  of  his 
generation,  and  of  a  strength  which  would  have  been 
gigantic,  but  for  the  too  great  length  of  neck  and  limb, 


3i4  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

which  made  him  loose  and  slow  in  body,  as  he  was 
somewhat  loose  and  slow  in  mind.  An  old  man's 
child,  although  that  old  man  was  one  of  the  old  giants, 
there  was  a  vein  of  weakness  in  him,  which  showed 
in  the  arched  eyebrow,  the  sleepy  pale  blue  eye,  the 
small  soft  mouth,  the  lazy  voice,  the  narrow  and  lofty 
brain  over  a  shallow  brow.  His  face  was  not  that  of 
a  warrior,  but  of  a  saint  in  a  painted  window ;  and  to 
his  own  place  he  went,  and  became  a  saint,  in  his  due 
time.  But  that  he  could  out-general  William  ;  that 
he  could  even  manage  Gospatric  and  his  intrigues, 
Hereward  expected  as  little,  as  that  his  own  nephews 
Edwin  and  Morcar  could  do  it. 

"  I  have  to  thank  you,  noble  sir,"  said  Waltheof 
languidly,  "for  sending  your  knights  to  our  rescue 
when  we  were  really  hard  bestead — I  fear  much  by 
our  own  fault.  Had  they  told  me  whose  men  they 
were,  I  should  not  have  spoken  to  you  so  roughly 
as  I  fear  I  did." 

"There  is  no  offence.  Let  Englishmen  speak  their 
minds,  as  long  as  English  land  is  above  sea.  But 
how  did  you  get  into  trouble,  and  with  whom  ?  " 

Waltheof  told  him  how  he  was  going  round  the 
country,  raising  forces  in  the  name  of  the  Atheling, 
when,  as  they  were  straggling  along  the  Roman  road, 
Gilbert  of  Ghent  had  dashed  out  on  them  from  a 
wood,  cut  their  line  in  two,  driven  Waltheof  one 
way,  and  the  Atheling  another  ;  so  that  the  Atheling 
had  only  escaped  by  riding,  as  they  saw,  for  his  life. 

"Well  done,  old  Gilbert!"  laughed  Hereward. 
"You  must  beware,  my  Lord  Earl,  how  you  venture 
within  reach  of  that  old  bear's  paw." 

"Bear?  By  the  bye,  Sir  Hereward,"  asked 
Waltheof,  whose  thoughts  ran  loosely  right  and 
left,  "they  told  me  that  you  carried  a  white  bear 
on  your  banner  :  but  I  only  see  a  knot." 

"Ah?  I  have  parted  with  my  old  bear,  all  save 
his  skin  ;  for  keeping  which,  by  the  bye,  your  house 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  315 

ought  to  have  a  blood-feud  against  me.  I  slew 
your  great-uncle,  or  cousin,  or  some  other  kinsman, 
at  Gilbert's  house  in  Scotland  long  ago  ;  and  since 
then  I  sleep  on  his  skin  every  night,  and  used  to 
carry  his  picture  in  my  banner  all  day." 

"Blood-feuds  are  solemn  things,"  said  Waltheof, 
frowning.  "  Karl  killed  my  grandfather  Aldred  at 
the  battle  of  Settrington,  and  his  four  sons  are  with 
the  army  at  York  now " 

"  For  the  love  of  all  saints  and  of  England,  do  not 
think  of  avenging  that  !  Every  man  must  now  put 
away  old  grudges,  and  'remember  that  he  has  but 
one  foe,  William  and  his  Frenchmen." 

"  Very  nobly  spoken.  But  those  sons  of  Karl — and 
I  think  you  said  you  had  killed  a  kinsman  of  mine  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  bear,  Lord  Earl,  a  great  white  bear. 
Cannot  you  understand  a  jest  ?  Or  are  you  going 
to  take  up  the  quarrels  of  all  white  bears  that  are 
slain  between  here  and  Iceland  ?  You  will  end  by 
burning  Crowland  Minster  then ;  for  there  are 
twelve  of  your  kinsmen's  skins  there,  which  Canute 
gave  forty  years  ago." 

"Burn  Crowland  Minster?  St.  Guthlac  and  all 
saints  forbid ! "  said  Waltheof,  crossing  himself 
devoutly. 

"Are  you  a  monk-monger  into  the  bargain,  as 
well  as  a  dolt  ?  A  bad  prospect  for  us,  if  you  are," 
said  Hereward  to  himself. 

"Ah,  my  dear  Lord  King!"  said  Waltheof,  "and 
you  are  recovering  ?  " 

"Somewhat,"  said  the  lad,  sitting  up,  "under 
the  care  of  this  kind  knight." 

"  He  is  a  monk,  Sir  Atheling,  and  not  a  knight," 
said  Hereward.  "  Our  fen-men  can  wear  a  mail- 
shirt  as  easily  as  a  frock,  and  handle  a  twybill  as 
neatly  as  a  breviary." 

Waltheof  shook  his  head.  "It  is  contrary  to 
the  canons  of  Holy  Church." 


3i6  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

"  So  are  many  things  that  are  done  in  England 
just  now.  Need  has  no  master.  Now,  Sir  Earl 
and  Sir  Atheling,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

Neither  of  them,  it  seemed,  very  well  knew.  They 
would  go  to  York  if  they  could  get  there,  and  join 
Gospatric  and  Marlesweyn.  And  certainly  it  was 
the  most  reasonable  thing  to  be  done. 

"  But  if  you  mean  to  get  to  York,  you  must  march 
after  another  fashion  than  this,"  said  Hereward 
"  See,  Sir  Earl,  why  you  were  broken  by  Gilbert; 
and  why  you  will  be  broken  again,  if  this  order 
holds.  If  you  march  your  men  along  one  of  these 

old  Roman  streets By  St.  Mary,  these  Romans 

had  more  wits  than  we;  for  we  have  spoilt  the 
roads  they  left  us,  and  never  made  a  new  one  of  our 
own " 

44  They  were  heathens  and  enchanters,"  —  and 
Waltheof  crossed  himself. 

"  And  conquered  the  world.  Well — if  you  march 
along  one  of  these  streets,  you  must  ride  as  I  rode, 
when  I  came  up  to  you.  You  must  not  let  your 
knights  go  first,  and  your  men-at-arms  straggle 
after  in  a  tail  a  mile  long,  like  a  scratch  pack  of 
hounds,  all  sizes  except  each  others'.  You  must 
keep  your  footmen  on  the  high  street ;  and  make 
your  knights  ride  in  two  bodies,  right  and  left, 
upon  the  wold,  to  protect  their  flanks  and  baggage." 

"  But  the  knights  will  not.  As  gentlemen,  they 
have  a  right  to  the  best  ground." 

"Then  they  may  go  to ,  whither  they  will  go, 

if  the  French  come  upon  them.  If  they  are  on  the 
flanks,  and  you  are  attacked,  then  they  can  charge 
in  right  and  left  on  the  enemy's  flank,  while  the 
footmen  make  a  stand  to  cover  the  wagons." 

"Yes — that  is  very  good;  I  believe  that  is  your 
.French  fashion  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  fashion  of  common  sense,  like  all  things 
which  succeed." 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  317 

"  But,  you  see,  the  knights  would  not  submit 
to  ride  in  the  mire." 

"Then  you  must  make  them.  What  else  have 
they  horses  for,  while  honester  men  than  they  trudge 
on  foot  ?  " 

"Make  them?"  said  Waltheof,  with  a  shrug  and 
a  smile.  "They  are  all  free  gentlemen,  like  our- 
selves." 

"And,  like  ourselves,  will  come  to  utter  ruin, 
because  every  one  of  them  must  needs  go  his  own 
way." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Waltheof,  as  they  rode  along, 
"that  you  called  this  my  earldom.  I  hold  it  to 
be  mine  of  course,  in  right  of  my  father :  but  the 
landsfolk,  you  know,  gave  it  to  your  nephew  Morcar." 

"I  care  not  to  whom  it  is  given.  I  care  for  the 
man  who  is  on  it,  to  raise  these  landsfolk,  and  make 
them  fight.  You  are  here  :  therefore  you  are  Earl." 

"  Yes,  the  powers  that  be  are  ordained  by  God." 

"You  must  not  strain  that  text  too  far,  Lord  Earl ; 
for  the  only  power  that  is,  whom  I  see  in  England — 
worse  luck  for  it — is  William  the  Mamzer. " 

"  So  I  have  often  thought.'" 

"You  have?  As  I  feared!"  (To  himself)  "The 
pike  will  have  you  again,  gudgeon  ! " 

"He  has  with  him  the  Holy  Father  at  Rome,  and 
therefore  the  Blessed  Apostle  St.  Peter  of  course. 
And — is  a  man  right  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  who 
resists  them  ?  I  only  say  it — but  where  a  man  looks 
to  the  salvation  of  his  own  soul — he  must  needs  think 
thereof  seriously  at  least." 

"Oh,  are  you  at  that?"  thought  Hereward. 
"Tout  est  perdu.  The  question  is,  Earl,"  said  he 
aloud,  "simply  this.  How  many  men  can  you 
raise  off  this  shire  ?  " 

"  I  have  raised — not  so  many  as  I  could  wish. 
Harold  and  Edith's  men  have  joined  me  fairly  well : 
but  your  nephew,  Morcar's " 


3i8  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE 

"I  can  command  them,  I  have  half  ot  them  here 
already." 

"  Then — then  we  may  raise  the  rest  ?  " 

"That  depends,  my  Lord  Earl,  for  whom  we 
fight  ! " 

"  For  whom  ? — I  do  not  understand." 

"Whether  we  fight  for  that  lad— Child  Edgar— 
or  for  Sweyn  of  Denmark,  the  rightful  king  of 
England." 

"  Sweyn  of  Denmark  !  Who  should  be  the  rightful 
king,  but  the  heir  of  the  blessed  St.  Edward  ?  '* 

"Blessed  old  fool!  He  has  done  harm  to  us 
enough  on  earth,  without  leaving  us  his  second- 
cousin's  aunt's  malkins  to  harm  us  after  he  is  in 
heaven." 

"  Sir  Hereward,  Sir  Hereward,  I  fear  thou  art 
not  as  good  a  Christian  as  so  good  a  knight 
should  be." 

"  Christian  or  not,  I  am  as  good  a  one  as  my  neigh- 
bours. I  am  Leofric's  son.  Leofric  put  Harthacanute 
on  the  throne ;  and  your  father,  who  was  a  man, 
helped  him.  You  know  what  has  befallen  England, 
since  we  Danes  left  the  Danish  stock  at  Godwin's 
bidding,  and  put  our  necks  under  the  yoke  of  Wessex 
monks  and  monk-mongers.  You  may  follow  your 
father's  track,  or  not,  as  you  like.  I  shall  follow  my 
father's,  and  fight  for  Sweyn  Ulffson,  and  no  man 
else." 

"And  I,"  said  Waltheof,  "shall  follow  the  anointed 
of  the  Lord." 

"The  anointed  of  Gospatric  and  two  or  three 
boys!"  said  Hereward.  "Knights!  Turn  your 
horses'  heads.  Right  about  face  all !  We  are  going 
back  to  the  Bruneswold,  to  live  and  die  free  Danes." 

And  to  Waltheof  s  astonishment,  who  had  never 
before  seen  discipline,  the  knights  wheeled  round;  the 
men-at-arms  followed  them;  and  Waltheof  and  the 
Atheling  were  left  to  themselves  on  Lincoln  Heath. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  319 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

HOW  ARCHBISHOP  ALDRED  DIED  OF  SORROW. 

IN  the  tragedies  of  the  next  few  months  Hereward 
took  no  part;  but  they  must  be  looked  at  near,  in 
order  to  understand  somewhat  of  the  men  who  were 
afterwards  mixed  up  with  him  for  weal  and  woe. 

When  William  went  back  to  the  South,  the  con- 
federates, Child  Edgar  the  Atheling,  Gospatric,  and 
their  friends,  had  come  south  again  from  Durham. 
It  was  undignified;  a  confession  of  weakness.  If  a 
Frenchman  had  likened  them  to  mice  coming  out 
when  the  cat  went  away,  none  could  blame  him. 
But  so  they  did;  and  Asbiorn  and  his  Danes,  landing 
in  Humber-mouth,  "  were  met  "  (says  the  Anglo-Saxon 
Chronicle)  "  by  Child  Edgar  and  Earl  Waltheof  and 
Marlesweyn,  and  Earl  Gospatric  with  the  men  of 
Northumberland,  riding  and  marching  joyfully  with 
an  immense  army  ";  not  having  the  spirit  of  prophecy, 
or  foreseeing  those  things  which  were  coming  on  the 
earth. 

To  them  repaired  Edwin  and  Morcar,  the  two  young 
Earls;  Arkill  and  Karl,  "the  great  Thanes";  or  at 
least  the  four  sons  of  Karl — for  accounts  differ;  and 
what  few  else  of  the  northern  nobility  Tosti  had  left 
unmurdered. 

The  men  of  Northumberland  received  the  Danes 
with  open  arms.  They  would  besiege  York.  They 
would  storm  the  new  French  Keep.  They  would 
proclaim  Edgar  king  at  York. 

In  that  Keep  sat  two  men,  one  of  whom  knew  his 
own  mind,  the  other  did  not.  One  was  William 
Malet,  knight,  one  of  the  heroes  of  Hastings,  a  noble 
Norman,  and  chatelain  of  York  Castle.  The  other 
was  Archbishop  Aldred. 

Aldred  seems  to  have  been  a  man  like  too  many 


320  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

more — pious,  and  virtuous,  and  harmless  enough,  and 
not  without  worldly  prudence  :  but  his  prudence  was 
of  that  sort  which  will  surely  swim  with  the  stream, 
and  "honour  the  powers  that  be,"  if  they  be  but 
prosperous  enough.  For  after  all,  if  success  be  not 
God,  it  is  like  enough  to  Him  in  some  men's  eyes 
to  do  instead.  So  Archbishop  Aldred  had  crowned 
Harold  Godwinsson,  when  Harold's  star  was  in  the 
ascendant.1  And  who  but  Archbishop  Aldred  should 
crown  William,  when  his  star  had  cast  Harold's  down 
from  heaven  ?  He  would  have  crowned  Satanas  him- 
self, had  he  only  proved  himself  king  de  facto — as  he 
asserts  himself  to  be  de  jure — of  this  wicked  world. 

So  Aldred,  who  had  not  only  crowned  William,  but 
supported  his  power  north  of  Humber  by  all  means 
lawful,  sat  in  York  Keep,  and  looked  at  William 
Malet,  wondering  what  he  would  do. 

Malet  would  hold  out  to  the  last.  As  for  the  new 
Keep,  it  was  surely  impregnable.  The  old  walls — the 
Roman  walls  on  which  had  floated  the  flag  of  Con- 
stantine  the  Great — were  surely  strong  enough  to  keep 
out  men  without  battering-rams,  balistas,  or  artillery a 
of  any  kind.  What  mattered  Asbiorn's  two  hundred 
and  forty  ships,  and  their  crews  of  some  ten  or  fifteen 
thousand  men  ?  What  mattered  the  tens  of  thousands 
of  Northern  men,  with  Gospatric  at  their  head  ?  Let 
them  rage  and  rob  round  the  walls.  A  messenger  had 
galloped  in  from  William  in  the  Forest  of  Dean,  to 
tell  Malet  to  hold  out  to  the  last.  He  had  galloped 
out  again,  bearing  for  answer,  that  the  Normans  could 
hold  York  for  a  year. 

But  the  Archbishop's  heart  misgave  him,  as  from 
north  and  south  at  once  came  up  the  dark  masses  of 
two  mighty  armies,  broke  into  columns,  and  surged 
against  every  gate  of  the  city  at  the  same  time.  They 

«  So  says  Florence  of  Worcester.  The  Norman  chroniclers  impute  the  act  to 
Sligand. 

2  Artillery  is  here  used  in  its  old  English  meaning,  for  any  kind  of  warlike 
engine.  Cf .  i  Samuel  xx.  40. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  321 

had  no  battering  train  to  breach  the  ancient  walls  : 
but  they  had — and  none  knew  it  better  than  Aldred — 
hundreds  of  friends  inside,  who  would  throw  open  to 
them  the  gates. 

One  gate  he  could  command  from  the  Castle  tower. 
His  face  turned  pale  as  he  saw  a  mob  of  armed  towns- 
men rushing  down  the  street  towards  it ;  a  furious 
scuffle  with  the  French  guards  ;  and  then,  through  the 
gateway,  the  open  champaign  beyond,  and  a  gleaming 
wave  of  axes,  helms,  and  spears,  pouring  in,  and  up 
the  street. 

"The  traitors!"  he  almost  shrieked,  as  he  turned 
and  ran  down  the  ladder  to  tell  Malet  below. 

Malet  was  firm,  but  pale  as  Aldred. 

"  We  must  fight  to  the  last,"  said  he,  as  he  hurried 
down,  commanding  his  men  to  sally  at  once  en  masse 
and  clear  the  city. 

The  mistake  was  fatal.  The  French  were  entangled 
in  the  narrow  streets.  The  houses,  shut  to  them, 
were  opened  to  the  English  and  Danes  ;  and,  over- 
whelmed from  above,  as  well  as  in  front,  the  greater 
part  of  the  French  garrison  perished  in  the  first  fight. 
The  remnant  were  shut  up  in  the  Castle.  The  Danes 
and  English  seized  the  houses  round,  and  shot  from 
the  windows  at  every  loophole  and  embrasure  where  a 
Frenchman  showed  himself. 

M  Shoot  fire  upon  the  houses  !  "  said  Malet. 

"  You  will  not  burn  York?  O  God  !  is  it  come  to 
this?" 

"  And  why  not  York  town,  or  York  Minster,  or 
Rome  itself  with  the  Pope  inside  it,  rather  than  yield 
to  barbarians?" 

Archbishop  Aldred  went  into  his  room,  and  lay  down 
on  his  bed.  Outside  was  the  roar  of  the  battle  ;  and 
soon,  louder  and  louder,  the  roar  of  flame.  This  was 
the  end  of  his  timeserving  and  king-making.  And 
he  said  many  prayers,  and  beat  his  breast ;  and  then 
cnlbd  to  his  chaplain  for  clothes  for  he  was  very  cold. 

IT.i.V.  I. 


322  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"  I  have  slain  my  own  sheep,"  he  moaned,  "  slain  my 
own  sheep  ! " 

His  chaplain  hapt  him  up  in  bed,  and  looked  out  of 
the  window  at  the  fight.  Their  was  no  lull,  neither 
was  there  any  great  advantage  on  either  side.  Only 
from  the  southward  he  could  see  fresh  bodies  of  Danes 
coming  across  the  plain. 

"The  carcase  is  here,  and  the  eagles  are  gathered 
together.  Fetch  me  the  Holy  Sacrament,  chaplain, 
and  God  be  merciful  to  an  unfaithful  shepherd." 

The  chaplain  went. 

"  I  have  slain  my  own  sheep,"  moaned  the  Arch- 
bishop. "  I  have  given  them  up  to  the  wolves — given 
mine  own  minster,  and  all  the  treasures  of  the  Saints, 
and — and — I  am  very  cold." 

When  the  chaplain  came  back  with  the  blessed 
Sacrament,  Archbishop  Aldred  was  more  than  cold  ; 
for  he  was  already  dead  and  stiff.  But  William  Malet 
would  not  yield.  He  and  his  Frenchmen  fought,  day 
after  day,  with  the  energy  of  despair.  They  asked 
leave  to  put  forth  the  body  of  the  Archbishop  ;  and 
young  Waltheof,  who  was  a  pious  man,  insisted  that 
leave  should  be  given. 

So  the  Archishop's  coffin  was  thrust  forth  of  the 
castle-gate,  and  the  monks  from  the  abbey  came  and 
bore  it  away,  and  buried  it  in  the  cathedral-church. 

And  then  the  fight  went  on,  day  after  day  ;  and 
more  houses  burned,  till  York  was  all  aflame.  On 
the  eighth  day  the  minster  was  in  a  light  low  over 
Archbishop  Aldred's  new-made  grave.  All  was  burnt ; 
minster,  churches,  old  Roman  palaces,  and  all  the 
glories  of  Constantino  the  Great  and  the  mythic  past. 

The  besiegers,  hewing  and  hammering  g-ate  after 
gate,  had  now  won  all  but  the  Keep  itself.  Then 
Malet's  heart  failed  him.  A  wife  he  had,  and  children  ; 
for  their  sake  he  turned  coward  ;  and  fled  by  night, 
with  a  few  men-at-arms,  across  the  burning  ruins* 

Then,    into  what  once  was  York,  the  confederate 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  323 

Earls  and  Thanes  marched  in  triumph,  and  proclaimed 
Edgar  king — a  king  of  dust  and  ashes. 

And  where  were  Edwin  and  Morcar  the  meanwhile  ? 
It  is  not  told.  Were  they  struggling  against  William 
at  Stafford,  or  helping  Edric  the  Wild  and  his  Welsh- 
men to  besiege  Chester?  Probably  they  were  aiding 
the  insurrection,  if  not  at  these  two  points,  still  at 
some  other  of  their  great  Earldoms  of  Mercia  and 
Chester.  They  seemed  to  triumph  for  a  while  :  during 
the  autumn  of  1069  the  greater  part  of  England  seemed 
lost  to  William.  Many  Normans  packed  up  their 
plunder  and  went  back  to  France  ;  and  those  whose 
hearts  were  too  stout  to  return  showed  no  mercy  to 
the  English,  even  as  William  showed  none.  To  crush 
the  heart  of  the  people,  by  massacres,  and  mutilations, 
and  devastations,  was  the  only  hope  of  the  invader  ; 
and  thoroughly  he  did  his  work  whenever  he  had  a 
chance. 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

HOW    HEREWARD    FOUND    A    WISER    MAN   IN    ENGLAND 
THAN    HIMSELF. 

THERE  have  been  certain  men  so  great,  that  he  who 
describes  them  in  words — much  more  pretends  to 
analyse  their  inmost  feelings — must  be  a  very  great 
man  himself,  or  incur  the  accusation  of  presumption. 
And  such  a  great  man  was  William  of  Normandy, — 
one  of  those  unfathomable  master-personages,  who 
must  not  be  rashly  dragged  on  any  stage.  The 
genius  of  a  Bulwer,  in  attempting  to  draw  him,  took 
care  with  a  wise  modesty,  not  to  draw  him  in  too 
much  detail :  to  confess  always,  that  there  was  much 
beneath  and  behind  in  William's  character,  which 
none,  even  of  his  contemporaries,  could  guess.  And 
still  more  modest  than  Bulwer  is  this  chronicler 
bound  to  be. 


324  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

But  one  may  fancy,  for  once  in  a  way,  what 
William's  thoughts  were,  when  they  brought  him  the 
evil  news  of  York.  For  we  know  what  his  acts  were; 
and  he  acted  up  to  his  thoughts. 

Hunting  he  was,  they  say,  in  the  Forest  of  Dean, 
when  first  he  heard  that  all  England,  north  of  the 
Watling  Street,  had  broken  loose,  and  that  he  was 
king  of  only  half  the  isle. 

Did  he — as  when,  hunting  in  the  Forest  of  Rouen,  he 
got  the  news  of  Harold's  coronation — play  with  his  bow, 
stringing  and  unstringing  it  nervously,  till  he  had  made 
up  his  mighty  mind?  Then  did  he  go  home  to  his 
lodge,  and  there  spread  on  the  rough  oak  board  a 
parchment  map  of  England,  which  no  child  would 
deign  to  learn  from  now,  but  was  then  good  enough 
to  guide  armies  to  victory,  because  the  eyes  of  a  great 
general  looked  upon  it  ? 

As  he  pored  over  the  map,  by  the  light  of  bog-deal 
torch  or  rush  candle,  what  would  he  see  upon  it  ? 

Three  separate  blazes  of  insurrection,  from  north- 
west to  east,  along  the  Watling  Street. 

At  Chester,  Edric,  "  the  wild  thane,"  who,  according 
to  Domesday  Book,  had  lost  vast  lands  in  Shropshire; 
Algitha,  Harold's  widow;  and  Blethwallon  and  all 
his  Welsh;  "  the  white  mantles "  swarming  along 
Chester  streets,  not  as  usually,  to  tear  and  ravage 
like  the  wild  cats  of  their  own  rocks,  but  fast  friends 
by  blood  with  Aldytha,  once  their  queen  on  Penmaen- 
mawr.1  Edwin,  the  young  Earl,  Algitha's  brother, 
Hereward's  nephew — he  must  be  with  them  too,  if  he 
were  a  man. 

Eastward,  round  Stafford,  and  the  centre  of  Mercia, 
another  blaze  of  furious  English  valour.  Morcar, 
Edwin's  brother,  must  be  there,  as  their  Earl,  if  he 
too  was. a  man. 

Then  in  the  fens  and  Kesteven.    What  meant  this 

'  See  the  admirable  description  of  tie  tragedy  of  Petnaenmawt,  In  Bnlwer's 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  325 

news,  that  Hereward  of  St.  Omer  was  come  again, 
and  an  army  with  him  ?  That  he  was  levying  war 
on  all  Frenchmen,  in  the  name  of  Sweyn,  King  of 
Denmark  and  of  England  ?  He  is  an  outlaw,  a 
desperado,  a  boastful  swash-buckler,  thought  William, 
it  may  be,  to  himself.  He  found  out,  in  after  years, 
that  he  had  mistaken  his  man. 

And  north,  at  York,  in  the  rear  of  those  three  in- 
surrections, lay  Gospatric,  Waltheof,  and  Marlesweyn, 
with  the  Northumbrian  host.  Durham  was  lost,  and 
Comyn  burnt  therein.  But  York,  so  boated  William 
Malet,  could  hold  out  for  a  year.  He  should  not 
need  to  hold  out  for  so  long. 

And  last,  and  worst  of  all,  hung  on  the  eastern  coast 
the  mighty  fleet  of  Sweyn,  who  claimed  England  as 
his  of  right.  The  foe  whom  he  had  most  feared  ever 
since  he  set  foot  on  English  soil,  a  collision  with 
whom  had  been  inevitable  all  along,  was  come  at  last : 
but  where  would  he  strike  his  blow  ? 

William  knew,  doubt  it  not,  that  the  Danes  had 
been  defeated  at  Norwich  :  he  knew,  doubt  it  not,  for 
his  spies  told  him  everything,  that  they  had  purposed 
entering  the  Wash.  To  prevent  a  junction  between 
them  and  Hereward  was  impossible.  He  must 
prevent  a  junction  between  them  and  Edwin  and 
Morcar. 

He  determined,  it  seems — for  he  did  it — to  cut  the 
English  line  in  two,  and  marched  upon  Stafford  as  its 
centre. 

But  all  records  of  these  campaigns  are  fragmentary, 
confused,  contradictory.  The  Normans  fought,  and 
had  no  time  to  write  history.  The  English,  beaten 
and  crushed,  died  and  left  no  sign.  The  only 
chroniclers  of  the  time  are  monks.  And  little  could 
Ordericus  Vitalis,  or  Florence  of  Worcester,  or  he  of 
Peterborough,  faithful  as  he  was,  who  filled  up  the 
sad  pages  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle — liiUa  could 
they  see  or  understand  of  the  masterly  strategy  which 


526  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

was  conquering  all  England  for  Norman  monks,  in 
order  that  they,  following  the  army  like  black  ravens, 
might  feast  themselves  upon  the  prey  which  others 
won  for  them.  To  them,  the  death  of  an  abbot,  the 
squabbles  of  a  monastery,  the  journey  of  a  prelate  to 
Rome,  are  more  important  than  the  manoeuvres  which 
decided  the  life  and  freedom  of  tens  of  thousands. 

So  all  we  know  is,  that  William  fell  upon  Morcar's 
men  at  Stafford,  and  smote  them  with  a  great  destruc- 
tion ;  rolling  the  fugitives  west  and  east,  toward 
Edwin,  perhaps,  at  Chester,  certainly  toward 
Here  ward  in  the  fens. 

At  Stafford  met  him  the  fugitives  from  York,  Malet, 
his  wife,  and  children,  with  the  dreadful  news  that 
the  Danes  had  joined  Gospatric,  and  that  York 
was  lost. 

William  burst  into  fiendish  fury.  He  accused  the 
wretched  men  of  treason.  He  cut  off  their  hands, 
thrust  out  their  eyes  ;  threw  Malet  into  prison,  and 
stormed  on  northward. 

He  lay  at  Pontefract  for  three  weeks.  The  bridges 
over  the  Aire  were  broken  down.  But  at  last  he 
crossed  and  marched  on  York. 

No  man  opposed  him.  The  Danes  were  gone  down 
to  the  Humber.  Gospatric  and  Waltheof  s  hearts  had 
failed  them ;  and  they  had  retired  before  the  great 
captain. 

Florence  of  Worcester  says  that  William  bought 
Earl  Asbiorn  off,  giving  him  much  money,  and  leave 
to  forage  for  his  fleet  along  the  coast. 

Doubtless  William  would  have  so  done  if  he  could. 
Doubtless  the  angry  and  disappointed  English  raised 
such  accusations  against  the  Earl,  believing  them  to 
be  true.  But  is  not  the  simpler  cause  of  Asbiorn's 
conduct  to  be  found  in  the  plain  facts? — That  he  had 
sailed,  from  Denmark  to  put  Sweyn,  his  brother,  on 
the  throne.  He  found  on  his  arrival  that  Gospatric 
and  Waltheof  had  seized  it  in  the  name  of  Edgar 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  327 

Atheling.  What  had  he  to  do  more  in  England,  save 
what  he  did? — go  out  into  the  Humber,.  and  winter 
safely  there,  waiting  till  Sweyn  should  come  with 
reinforcements  in  the  spring? 

Then  William  had  his  revenge :  he  destroyed,  in  the 
language  of  Scripture,  "the  life  of  the  land."  Far 
and  wide  the  farms  were  burnt  over  their  owners' 
heads,  the  growing  crops  upon  the  ground  ;  the  horses 
were  houghed,  the  cattle  driven  off ;  while  of  human 
death  and  misery  there  was  no  end.  Yorkshire  and 
much  of  the  neighbouring  counties  lay  waste  for  the 
next  nine  years.  It  did  not  recover  itself  fully  till 
several  generations  after. 

The  Danes  had  boasted  that  they  would  keep  their 
Yule  at  York.  William  kept  his  Yule  there  instead. 
He  sent  to  Winchester  for  the  regalia  of  the  Con- 
fessor ;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  blackened  ruins,  while 
ths  English  for  miles  around  wandered  starving  in 
the  snows,  feeding  on  carrion,  on  rats  and  mice,  and  at 
last  upon  each  other's  corpses,  he  sat  in  his  royal 
robes,  and  gave  away  the  lands  of  Edwin  and  Morcar 
to  his  liegemen.  And  thus,  like  the  Romans,  from 
whom  he  derived  both  his  strategy  and  his  civilisation, 
he  "made  a  solitude,  and  called  it  peace." 

He  did  not  give  away  Waltheof's  lands  ;  and  only 
part  of  Gospatric's.  He  wanted  Gospatric  ;  he  loved 
Waltheof,  and  wanted  him  likewise. 

Therefore  through  the  desert  which  he  himself  had 
made  he  forced  his  way  up  to  the  Tees  a  second  time, 
over  snow-covered  moors  ;  and  this  time  St.  Cuthbert 
sent  no  fog,  being  satisfied  presumably  with  William's 
orthodox  attachment  to  St.  Peter  and  Rome  ;  so  the 
Conqueror  treated  quietly  with  Waltheof  and  Gospatric, 
who  lay  at  Durham. 

Gospatric  got  an  earldom,  from  Tees  to  Tyne  ;  and 
paid  down  for  it  much  hard  money  and  treasure ; — 
bought  it,  in  fact,  he  said. 

Waltheof  got    back    his    earldom,    and    much    of 


328  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

Morcar's.  From  the  fens  to  the  Tees,  was  to  be 
his  province. 

And  then,  to  the  astonishment  alike  of  Normans  and 
English,  and  it  may  be,  of  himself,  he  married  Judith, 
the  Conquerors  niece  ;  and  became  once  more  William's 
loved  and  trusted  friend — or  slave. 

It  seems  inexplicable  at  first  sight.  Inexplicable, 
save  as  an  instance  of  that  fascination  which  the 
strong  sometimes  exercise  over  the  weak. 

Then  William  turned  south-west,  Edwin,  wild 
Edric  the  dispossessed  Thane  of  Shropshire,  and 
the  wilder  Blethwallon  and  his  Welshmen,  were 
still  harrying  and  slaying.  They  had  just  attacked 
Shrewsbury  William  would  come  upon  them  by  a 
way  they  thought  not  of. 

So  over  the  backbone  of  England  ;  by  way  probably 
of  Halifax,  or  Huddersfield  ;  throug'h  pathless  moors 
and  bogs,  down  towards  the  plains  of  Lancashire  and 
Cheshire,  he  pushed  over  and  on.  His  soldiers  from 
the  plains  of  sunny  France  could  not  face  the  cold, 
the  rain,  the  morasses,  the  hideous  gorges,  the  valiant 
peasants — still  the  finest  and  shrewdest  race  of  men 
in  all  England — who  set  upon  them  in  wooded  glens, 
or  rolled  stones  on  them  from  the  limestone  crags. 
They  prayed  to  be  dismissed,  to  g-o  home. 

"Cowards  might  go  back,"  said  William;  "he 
should  go  on."  If  he  could  not  ride,  he  would  walk. 
Whoever  lagged,  he  would  be  foremost.  And  cheered 
by  his  example,  the  army  at  last  debouched  upon  the 
Cheshire  flats. 

Then  he  fell  upon  Edwin,  as  he  had  fallen  upon 
Morcar.  He  drove  the  wild  Welsh  through  the  pass 
of  Mold,  and  up  into  their  native  hills.  He  laid  all 
waste  with  fire  and  sword  for  many  a  mile,  as 
Domesday  Book  testifies  to  this  day.  He  strengthened 
the  walls  of  Chester  ;  trampled  out  the  last  embers  of 
rebellion ;  and  went  down  south  to  Salisbury,  King  ot 
England  once  again. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  329 

Why  did  he  not  push  .on  at  once  against  the  one 
rebellion  left  alight,  that  of  Heresvard  and  Ms 
fen-men  ? 

It  may  be  that  he  understood  him  and  them.  It 
may  be  that  he  meant  to  treat  with  Sweyn,  as  he 
had  done,  if  the  story  be  true,  with  Asbiorn.  It  ii» 
more  likely  that  he  could  do  no  more  ;  that  his  army, 
after  so  swift  and  long  a  campaign,  required  rest. 
It  may  be  that  the  time  of  service  of  many  of  his 
mercenaries  was  expired.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he 
mustered  them  at  Old  Sarum — the  Roman  British 
burgh  which  still  stands  on  the  down  side— and 
rewarded  them,  according  to  their  deserts,  from  the 
lands  of  the  conquered  English. 

How  soon  Hereward  knew  all  this,  or  how  he  passed 
the  winter  of  1070-71,  we  cannot  tell.  But  to  him  it 
must  have  been  a  winter  of  bitter  perplexity. 

It  wag  impossible  to  get  information  from  Edwin  ; 
and  news  from  York  was  almost  impossible  to?  get ; 
for  Gilbert  of  Ghent  stood  between  him  and  it. 

He  felt  himself  now  pent  in,  all  but  trapped.  Since 
he  had  set  foot  last  in  England  ugly  things  had  risen 
up,  on  which  he  had  calculated  too  little,  namely 
Norman  castles.  A  whole  ring  of  them  in  Norfolk 
and  Suffolk  cut  him  off  from  the  south.  A  castle  at 
Cambridge  closed  the  south  end  of  the  fens  ;  another 
at  Bedford,  the  western  end  ;  while  Lincoln  Castle  to 
the  north  cut  him  off  from  York. 

His  men  did  not  see  the  difficulty  ;  and  wanted  him 
to  march  towards  York,  and  clear  all  Lindsey  and 
right  up  to  the  Humber. 

Gladly  would  he  have  done  so,  when  he  heard  that 
the  Panes  were  wintering  in  the  Humber. 

M  But  how  can  we  take  Lincoln  Castle  without 
artillery,  or  even  a  battering  ram  ?  " 

"  Let  us  march  past  it,  then,  and  leave  it  behind." 

<*  Ah,  my  sons,"  said  Hereward,  laughing  sadly,  "  do 
you  suppose  that  The  Mamzer  spends  his  time — and 


330  HEREWARD   THE  WAKE. 

Englishmen's  life  ana  labour — in  heaping  up  those 
great  stone  mountains,  that  you  and  I  may  walk  past 
them  ?  They  are  put  there  just  to  prevent  our  walking 
past,  unless  we  choose  to  have  the  garrison  sallying- 
out  to  attack  our  rear,  and  cut  us  off  from  home,  and 
carry  off  our  women  into  the  bargain,  when  our  backs 
are  turned." 

The  English  swore,  and  declared  that  they  had 
never  thought  of  that. 

"No.  We  drink  too  much  ale  on  this  side  of  the 
Channel,  to  think  of  that — or  of  anything  beside." 

"  But,"  said  Leofwin  Prat,  "  if  we  have  no  artillery, 
we  can  make  some." 

"Spoken  like  yourself,  good  comrade.  If  we  only 
knew  how." 

"I  know,"  said  Torfrida.  "I  have  read  of  such 
things  in  books  of  the  ancients,  and  I  have  watched 
them  making  continually — I  little  knew  why,  or  that 
I  should  ever  turn  engineer." 

"  What  is  there  that  you  do  not  know  ?  "  cried  they 
all  at  once.  And  Torfrida  actually  showed  herself  a 
fair  practical  engineer. 

But  where  was  iron  to  come  from  ?  Iron  for 
catapult-springs,  iron  for  ram-heads,  iron  for  bolts 
and  bars  ? 

"Torfrida,"  said  Hereward,  "you  are  wise.  Can 
you  use  the  divining-rod  ?  " 

"Why,  my  knight?" 

"  Because  there  might  be  iron-ore  in  the  wolds  ;  and 
if  you  could  find  it  by  the  rod,  we  might  get  it  up  and 
smelt  it." 

Torfrida  said  humbly  that  she  would  try  ;  and 
walked  with  the  divining-rod  between  her  pretty 
fingers  for  many  a  mile  in  wood  and  wold,  wherever 
the  ground  looked  red  and  rusty.  But  she  never 
found  any  iron. 

"  We  must  take  the  tires  off  the  cart-wheels,"  said 
Leofwin  Prat 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  331 

"  But  how  will  the  carts  do  without?  For  we  shall 
want  them  if  we  inarch." 

"In  Provence,  where  I  was  born,  the  wheels  were 
made  out  of  one  round  piece  of  wood.  Could  we  not 
cut  wheels  like  them  ?  "  asked  Torfrida. 

"You  are  the  wise  woman  as  usual,"  said  Hereward. 

Toririda  burst  into  a  violent  flood  of  tears,  no  one 
knew  why. 

There  came  over  her  a  vision  of  the  creaking- 
carts,  and  the  little  sleek  oxen,  dove-coloured  and 
dove-eyed,  with  their  canvas  mantles  tied  neatly  on 
to  keep  off  heat  and  flies,  lounging  on  with  their 
light  load  of  vine  and  olive-twigs  beneath  the  blazing 
southern  sun.  When  should  she  see  the  sun  once 
more?  She  looked  up  at  the  brown  branches  over- 
head, howling  in  the  December  gale,  and  down  at 
the  brown  fen  below,  dying  into  mist  and  darkness 
as  the  low  December  sun  died  down  ;  and  it  seemed 
as  if  her  life  was  dying  down  with  it.  There  would 
be  no  more  sun,  and  no  more  summers,  for  her  upon 
this  earth. 

None  certainly  for  her  poor  old  mother.  Her 
southern  blood  was  chilling  more  and  more  beneath 
the  bitter  sky  of  Kesteven.  The  fall  of  the  leaf  had 
brought  with  it  rheumatism,  ague,  and  many  miseries. 
Cunning  old  leech-wives  treated  the  French  lady  with 
tonics  ;  mugwort,  and  bogbean,  and  good  wine  enow. 
But,  like  David  of  old,  she  got  no  heat ;  and  before 
Yule-tide  came,  she  had  prayed  herself  safely  out  of 
this  world,  and  into  the  world  to  come.  And  Torfrida's 
heart  was  the  more  light  when  she  saw  her  go. 

She  was  absorbed  utterly  in  Hereward  and  his 
plots.  She  lived  for  nothing  else,  hardly  even  for 
her  child;  and  clung  to  her  husband's  fortunes  all 
the  more  fiercely,  the  more  desperate  they  seemed. 

So  that  small  band  of  gallant  men  laboured  on, 
waiting  for  the  Danes,  and  trying  to  make  artillery 
and  take  Lincoln  Keep.  And  all  the  while,  so  unequal 


33?  BEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

is  fortune  when  God  wills — throughout  the  Southern 
Weald,  from  Hastings  to  Hind-head,  every  copse 
glared  with  charcoal  heaps,  every  glen  v/as  burrowed 
with  iron,  diggings,  every  hammer-pond  stamped  and 
gurgled  night  and  day,  smelting  and  forging  English 
iron,  wherewith  the  Frenchmen  might  slay  Englishmen. 

William — though  perhaps  he  knew  it  not  himself — 
had,  in  securing  Sussex  and  Surrey,  secured  the  then 
great  ironfield  of  England,  and  an  unlimited  supply,  of 
weapons :  and  to  that  circumstance,  it  may  be,  as 
much  as  to  any  other,  the  success  of  his  campaigns 
may  be  due. 

It  must  have  been  in  one  of  these  December  days 
that  a,  handftil  of  knights  came  through  the  Brunes- 
wold,  mud  and  blood  bespattered,  urging  on  tired 
horses,  ashmen  desperate  and  foredone.  And  the  fore- 
most of  them  all,  when  he  saw  Hereward  at  the  gate 
of  Bourne,  leaped  down,  and  threw  his  arms  round  his 
neck,,  and  burst  into  bitter  weeping-. 

"  Hereward,  I  know,  you )( though  you  know  me  not. 
I  am  your  nephew,  Morcar  Algarsson  ;  and  all  is  lost." 

As  the  winter  ran. on,  other  fugitives  came  in,  mostly 
of,  rank  and  family.  At  last  Edwin  himself  came, 
young  and  fair,  like  Morcar;,  he  who  should  have  been 
the  Conqueror's-  son-in-law ;  for  whom  his  true-love 
pined,  as:  he  pined,  in  vain;  Where  were  Sweyn  and 
his/Danes.?  Whither  should  they  go  till  he  came ? 

"To  Ely,"  answered  Hereward. 

Whether  or  not  it  was  his  wit  which  first  seized:  on 
the  military  capabilities  of  Ely  is.  not  told.  Leofric 
the  deacon,  who  is  likely  to  know  best,  says  that  there 
ware,  men  already  there  holding  out  against  William  ; 
and  that  they  sent  for  Hereward.  But  it  is  not  clear 
from  his  words,  whether  they  were  fugitives,  or  merely 
bold  Abbot  Thurstan  and  his  monks. 

It  is  but  probable,  nevertheless,  that  Hereward,  as 
the  only  man  among  the  fugitives  who  ever  showed 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  333 

any  ability  whatsoever,  and  who  was,  also,  the  only 
leader  (save  Morcar)  connected  with  the  fen,  conceived 
the  famous  "  Camp  of  Refuge,"  and  made  it  a  formid- 
able fact.  Be  that  as  it  may,  Edwin  and  Morcar  went 
to  Ely  ;  and  there  joined  an  Earl  Tosti  (according  to 
Richard  of  Ely),  unknown  to  history  ;  a  Si  ward  Barn, 
"  the  boy  or  the  chieftain,"  who  had  been  dispossessed 
of  lands  in  Lincolnshire  ; x  and  other  valiant  and  noble 
gentlemen— the  last  wrecks  of  the  English  aristocracy. 
And  there  they  sat  in  Abbot  Thurstan's  hall,  and 
waited  for  Sweyn  and  the  Danes. 

But  the  worst  Job's  messenger  who,  during  that 
evil  winter  and  spring,  came  into  the  fen,  was  Bishop 
Egelwin  of  Durham.  He  it  was,  most  probably,  who 
brought  the  news  of  Berkshire  laid  waste  with  fire  and 
sword.  He  it  was,  most  certainly,  who  brought  the 
worst  news  still,  that  Gospatric  and  Waltheof  were 
gone  over  to  the  king.  He  was  at  Durham  seemingly, 
when  he  saw  that ;  and  fled  for  his  life,  ere  evil  over- 
took him  :  for  to  yield  to  William  that  brave  bishop 
had  no  mind. 

But  when  Hereward  heard  that  Waltheof  was 
married  to  the  Conqueror's  niece,  he  smote  his  hands 
together,  and  cursed  him,  and  the  mother  who  bore 
him  to  Si  ward  the  Stout. 

"Could  thy  father  rise  from  the  grave  he  would 
split  thy  craven  head  in  the  very  lap  of  the  French- 
woman." 

"  A  hard  lap  will  he  find  it,  Hereward,"  said  Torfrida. 
"  I  know  her — wanton,  false,  and  vain.  Heaven  grant 
he  do  not  rue  the  day  he  ever  saw  her  ! " 

1  Order icus  VitaKs  says  that  he  and  his  brother  Aldred  were  "  sons  of  Ethelgar. 
the  late  king's  grandson."  In  another  place  he  makes  Ethelgar  a  "cousin  ot 
King  Edward."  Mr.  Forester  in  his  notes  to  Ortiericus  Vitalis  snys  (with 
probability)  that  the  "late  king"  may  hare  been  Edward  the  Elder,  who  had 
a  son  named  Ailward  Snow,  whose  son  Algar  (Ethelg-ar)  was  probably  the 
father  of  Sward  Barn  and  Aldred,  as  well  as  of  Brihtnc,  who  had  the  largcs' 
possessions  in  Gloucestershire,  Herefordshire,  and  Shropshire.  If  so,  we  have  f 
fresh  illustration  of  the  fact  that  the  lands  of  England  had,  before  the  Conquest, 
been  accumulated  in  the  hands  of  an  aristocracy  numerically  small,  and  closely 
interrelated  in  blood  ;  a  state  of  things  sufficient  in  kself  to  account  for  the  cm*y 
victory  of  the  French. 


334  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

"  Heaven  grant  he  may  rue  it !  Would  that  her 
bosom  were  knives  and  fish-hooks,  like  that  of  the 
statue  in  the  fairy  tale.  See  what  he  has  done  for  us  ! 
He  is  Earl,  not  only  of  his  own  lands,  but  of  poor 
Morcar's  too,  and  of  half  his  earldom.  He  is  Earl  of 
Huntingdon,  of  Cambridge,  they  say — of  this  ground 
on  which  we  stand.  What  right  have  I  here  now? 
How  can  I  call  on  a  single  man  to  arm,  as  I  could  in 
Morcar's  name  ?  I  am  an  outlaw  here,  and  a  robber ; 
and  so  is  every  man  with  me.  And  do  you  think  that 
William  did  not  know  that?  He  saw  well  enough 
what  he  was  doing  when  he  set  up  that  great  brainless 
idol  as  earl  again.  He  wanted  to  split  up  the  Danish 
folk,  and  he  has  done  it.  The  Northumbrians  will 
stick  to  Waltheof.  They  think  him  a  mighty  hero, 
because  he  held  York-gate  alone  with  his  own  axe 
against  all  the  French." 

"  Well,  that  was  a  gallant  deed." 

"  Pish  !  we  are  all  gallant  men,  we  English.  It  is 
not  courage  that  we  want,  it  is  brains.  So  the  York- 
shire and  Lindsey  men,  and  the  Nottingham  men  too, 
will  go  with  Waltheof.  And  round  here,  and  all 
through  the  fens,  every  coward,  every  prudent  man 
even — every  man  who  likes  to  be  within  the  law,  and 
to  feel  his  head  safe  on  his  shoulders — no  blame  to  him 
— will  draw  off  from  me  for  fear  of  this  new  earl,  and 
leave  us  to  end  as  a  handful  of  outlaws.  I  see  it  all. 
And  William  sees  it  all.  He  is  wise  enough,  The 
Mamzer,  and  so  is  his  father  Belial,  to  whom  he  will 
go  home  some  day.  Yes,  Torfrida,"  he  went  on  after 
a  pause,  more  gently,  but  in  a  tone  of  exquisite  sad- 
ness, "  you  are  right,  as  you  always  are.  I  am  no 
match  for  that  man.  I  see  it  now." 

"  I  never  said  that.     Only " 

"  Only  you  told  me  again  and  again  that  he  was  the 
wisest  man  on  earth." 

"  And  yet,  for  that  very  reason,  I  bade  you  win  glory 
without  end  by  defying  the  wisest  man  on  earth." 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  335 

"  And  do  you  bid  me  do  it  still?  " 

"  God  knows  what  I  bid,"  said  Torfrida,  bursting 
into  tears.  "  Let  me  go,  pray,  for  I  never  needed  it 
more." 

Hereward  watched  her  kneeling,  as  he  sat  moody, 
all  but  desperate.  Then  he  glided  to  her  side  and 
said  gently : 

"  Teach  me  how  to  pray,  Torfrida.  I  can  say  a 
pater  or  an  ave.  But  that  does  not  comfort  a  man's 
heart,  as  far  as  I  could  ever  find.  Teach  me  to  pray, 
as  you  and  my  mother  pray." 

And  she  put  her  arms  round  the  wild  man's  neck, 
and  tried  to  teach  him,  like  a  little  child. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

HOW    HEREWARD    FULFILLED    HIS    WORDS    TO    THE    PRIOR 
OF   THE    GOLDEN    BOROUGH. 

IN  the  course  of  that  winter  died  good  Abbot  Brand. 
Hereward  went  over  to  see  him,  and  found  him  moan- 
ing to  himself  texts  of  Isaiah,  and  confessing  the  sins 
of  his  people. 

' '  Woe  to  the  vineyard  that  bringeth  forth  wild 
grapes.  Woe  to  those  that  join  house  to  house  and 
field  to  field, — like  us,  and  the  Godwinssons,  and  every 
man  that  could — till  we  stood  alone  in  the  land.  Many 
houses,  great  and  fair,  shall  be  without  inhabitants. 
It  is  all  foretold  in  Holy  Writ,  Hereward,  my  son. 
Woe  to  those  who  rise  early  to  fill  themselves  with 
strong  drink,  and  the  tabret  and  harp  are  in  their 
feasts  :  but  they  regard  not  the  works  of  the  Lord. 
Therefore  my  people  are  gone  into  captivity,  because 
they  have  no  knowledge.  Ah — those  Frenchmen  have 
knowledge,  and  too  much  of  it :  while  we  have  brains 
filled  with  ale  instead  of  justice.  Therefore  hell  hath 
enlarged  herself,  and  opened  her  mouth  without 


336  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

measure, and  all  go  down  into  it,  one  by  one. 

And  dost  thou  think  thou  shalt  escape,  Hereward, 
thou  stout-hearted  ?  " 

"  I  neither  know  nor  care :  but  this  I  know,  that 
whithersoever  I  go,  I  shall  go  sword  in  hand." 

"They  that  take  the  sword  sliall  perish  by  the 
sword,"  said  Brand,  and  blessed  Hereward  and  died. 

A  week  after  came  news  that  Thorold  of  Malmesbury 
was  coming  to  take  the  abbey  of  Peterborough,  and 
had  got  as  far  as  Stamford,  with  a  right  royal  train. 

Then  Hereward  sent  Abbot  Thorold  word,  that  if 
he  or  his  Frenchmen  put  foot  into  Peterborough,  he 
Hereward  would  burn  it  over  their  heads.  And  that 
if  he  rode  a  mile  beyond  Stamford  town,  he  should 
walk  back  into  it  barefoot  in  his  shit  c. 

Whereon  Thorold  abode  at  Stamford,  and  kept  up 
his  spirits  by  singing  the  song  of  Roland,  which  some 
say  he  himself  composed. 

A  week  after  that,  and  the  Danes  were  come. 

A  mighty  fleet,  with  Sweyn  Ulfsson  at  their  head, 
went  up  the  Ouse  towards  Ely.  Another,  with  Asbiorn 
at  their  head,  having  joined  them  off  the  mouth  of  the 
Humber,  sailed  (it  seems)  up  the  Nene.  All  the 
chivalry  of  Denmark  and  Ireland  was  come  ;  and  with 
it  all  the  chivalry,  and  the  unchivalry,  of  the  Baltic 
shores. — Vikings  from  Jomsburg  and  Arkona,  Gott- 
landers  from  Wisby  ;  and  with  them  their  heathen 
tributaries,  Wends,  Finns,  Esthonians,  Courlanders, 
Russians  from  Novogorod  and  the  heart  of  Holmgard, 
Letts  who  still  offered,  in  the  forest  of  Rugen,  human 
victims  to  the  four-headed  Swantowit ;  foul  hordes 
in  sheepskins  and  primeval  filth,  who  might  have 
been  scented  from  Hunstanton  Ness  ever  since  their 
ships  had  rounded  the  Skaw. 

Hereward  hurried  to  them  with  all  his  men.  He 
•was  anxious,  of  course,  to  prevent  their  plundering 
the  landsfollc  as  they  went — and  that  the  savages  from 
the  Baltic  shore  would  certainly  do,  if  they  could, 


HERE  WARD  THE   WAKE.  337 

however  reasonable  the  Danes,  Orkney  men,  and  Irish 
Ostmen  might  be. 

Food,  of  course,  they  must  take  where  they  could 
find  it ;  but  outrages  were  not  a  necessary,  though 
a  too  common,  adjunct  to  the  process  of  emptying 
a  farmer's  granaries. 

He  found  the  Danes  in  a  dangerous  mood  ;  sulky 
and  disgusted,  as  they  had  good  right  to  be.  They 
had  gone  to  the  Humber,  and  found  nothing  but  ruin  ; 
the  land  waste ;  the  French  holding  both  the  shores 
of  the  Humber  ;  and  Asbiorn  cowering  in  Humber- 
mouth,  hardly  able  to  feed  his  men.  They  had  come 
to  conquer  England,  and  nothing  was  left  for  them 
to  conquer,  but  a  few  peat-bogs.  Then  they  would 
have  what  there  was  in  them.  Every  one  knew  that 
gold  grew  up  in  England  out  of  the  ground,  wherever 
a  monk  put  his  foot.  And  they  would  plunder  Crow- 
land.  Their  forefathers  had  done  it,  and  had  fared 
none  the  worse.  English  gold  they  would  have,  if 
they  could  not  get  fat  English  manors. 

"  No  !  not  Crowland  !  "  said  Hereward.  Any  place 
but  Crowland,  endowed  and  honoured  by  Canute  the 
Great, — Crowland,  whose  abbot  was  a  Danish  noble- 
man, whose  monks  were  Danes  to  a  man,  of  their 
own  flesh  and  blood.  Canute's  soul  would  rise  up 
in  Valhalla  and  curse  them,  if  they  took  the  value  of 
a  penny  from  St.  Guthlac.  St.  Guthlac  was  their  good 
friend.  He  would  send  them  bread,  meat,  ale,  all 
they  needed,  but  woe  to  the  man  who  set  foot  upon 
his  ground. 

Hereward  sent  off  messengers  to  Crowland,  warning 
all  to  be  ready  to  escape  into  the  fens  ;  and  entreating 
Ulfketyl  to  empty  his  storehouses  into  his  barges,  and 
send  food  to  the  Danes,  ere  a  day  was  past.  And 
Ulfketyl  worked  hard  and  well,  till  a  string  of  barges 
wound  its  way  through  the  fens,  laden  with  beeves 
and  bread,  and  ale-barrels  in  plenty  ;  and  with  monks 
too,  who  welcomed  the  Danes  as  their  brethren,  talked 


338  HE  REWARD   THE   WAKE. 

to  them  in  their  own  tongue,  blessed  them  in  St. 
Guthlac's  name  as  the  saviours  of  England  ;  and  then 
went  home  again,  chanting  so  sweetly  their  thanks 
to  Heaven  for  their  safety,  that  the  wild  Vikings  were 
awed,  and  agreed  that  St.  Guthlac's  men  were  wise 
folk  and  open-hearted,  and  that  it  was  a  shame  to 
do  them  harm. 

But  plunder  they  must  have. 

"And  plunder  you  shall  have!"  said  Hereward  as 
a  sudden  thought  struck  him.  "I  will  show  you  the 
way  to  the  Golden  Borough — the  richest  minster  in 
England  ;  and  all  the  treasures  of  the  Golden  Borough 
shall  be  yours,  if  you  will  treat  Englishmen  as  friends, 
and  spare  the  people  of  the  fens." 

It  was  a  great  crime  in  the  eyes  of  men  of  that 
time.  A  great  crime,  taken  simply,  in  Hereward's 
own  eyes.  But  necessity  has  no  law.  Something  the 
Danes  must  have,  and  ought  to  have  ;  and  St.  Peter's 
gold  was  better  in  their  purses,  than  in  that  of  Thorold 
and  his  French  monks. 

So  he  led  them  up  the  fens  and  rivers,  till  they 
came  into  the  old  Nene,  which  men  call  Catvvater  and 
Muscal  now. 

As  he  passed  Nomanslandhirne,  and  the  mouth  of 
the  Porsand  river,  he  trembled,  and  trusted  that  the 
Danes  did  not  know  that  they  were  within  three  miles 
of  St.  Guthlac's  sanctuary.  But  they  went  on  ignorant, 
and  up  the  Muscal  till  they  saw  St.  Peter's  towers  on 
the  wooded  rise,  and  behind  them  the  great  forest 
which  is  now  Milton  Park. 

There  were  two  parties  in  Peterborough  minster ; 
a  smaller  faction  of  stout-hearted  English  ;  a  larger 
one  which  favoured  William  and  the  French  customs, 
with  Prior  Herluin  at  their  head.  Herluin  wanted 
not  for  foresig'ht,  and  he  knew  that  evil  was  coming 
on  him.  He  knew  that  the  Danes  were  in  the  fen. 
He  knew  that  Hereward  was  with  them.  He  knew 
that  they  had  come  to  Crowland.  Hereward  could 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  339 

never  mean  to  let  them  sack  it.  Peterborough  must 
be  their  point.  And  Herluin  set  his  teeth,  like  a  bold 
man  determined  to  abide  the  wosrt,  and  barred  and 
barricaded  every  gate  and  door. 

That  night  a  hapless  churchwarden — Ywar  was  his 
name  —  might  have  been  seen  galloping  through 
Milton  and  Castor  Hanglands,  and  on  by  Barnack 
quarries  over  Southorpe  heath,  with  saddlebags  of 
huge  size  stuffed  with  "gospels,  mass-robes,  cassocks, 
and  other  garments,  and  such  other  small  things  as 
he  could  carry  away."  And  he  came  before  day  to 
Stamford,  where  Abbot  Thorold  lay  at  his  ease  in  his 
inn  with  his  hommes  d'armes  asleep  in  the  hall. 

And  the  churchwarden  knocked  them  up,  and  drew 
Abbot  Thorold's  curtains  with  a  face  such  as  his  who 

drew  Priam's  curtain  in  the  dead  of  night, 
And  would  have  told  him,  half  his  Troy  was  burned  ; 

and  told  Abbot  Thorold  that  the  monks  of  Peter- 
borough had  sent  him ;  and  that  unless  he  saddled 
and  rode  his  best  that  night,  with  his  meinie  of  men- 
at-arms,  his  Golden  Borough  would  be  even  as  Troy 
town  by  morning  light. 

"  A  moi  hommes  d'armes  !  "  shouted  Thorold,  as  he 
used  to  shout  whenever  he  wanted  to  scourge  his 
wretched  English  monks  at  Malmesbury  into  some 
French  fashion. 

The  men  leaped  up  and  poured  in,  growling. 

"Take  me  this  monk,  and  kick  him  into  the  street 
for  waking  me  with  such  news." 

"But,  gracious  lord,  the  heathen  will  surely  burn 
Peterborough  ;  and  folks  said  that  you  were  a  mighty 
man  of  war." 

"  So  I  am  ;  but  if  I  were  Roland,  Oliver,  and  Turpin 
rolled  into  one,  how  am  I  to  fight  Hereward  and  the 
Danes  with  forty  men-at-arms?  Answer  me  that, 
thou  dunder-headed  English  porker." 


340  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

So  Ywar  was  kicked  into  the  cold,  while  Thorold 
raged  up  and  down  his  chamber  in  mantle  and 
slippers,  wringing-  his  hands  over  the  treasure  of 
the  Golden  Borough,  snatched  from  his  fingers  just 
as  he  was  closing  them  upon  it. 

That  night  the  monks  of  Peterborough  prayed  in 
the  minster  till  the  long  hours  passed  into  the  short. 
The  corrodiers,  and  servants  of  the  monastery,  fled 
from  the  town  outside  into  the  Milton  woods.  The 
monks  prayed  on  inside  till  an  hour  after  matins. 
When  the  first  flush  of  the  summer's  dawn  began  to 
show  in  the  north-eastern  sky,  they  heard  mingling 
with  their  own  chant,  another  chant,  which  Peter- 
borough had  not  heard  since  it  was  Medehampstead, 
three  hundred  years  ago  ; — the  terrible  Yuch-hey-saa- 
saa — the  war-song  of  the  Viking's  of  the  north. 

Their  chant  stopped  of  itself.  With  blanched  faces 
and  trembling  knees,  they  fled,  regardless  of  all  dis- 
cipline, up  into  the  minster  tower  ;  and  from  the  leads 
looked  out  north-eastward  on  the  fen. 

The  first  rays  of  the  summer  sun l  were  just  stream- 
ing over  the  vast  sheet  of  emerald,  and  glittering  upon 
the  winding  river  ;  and  on  a  winding  line,  too,  seem- 
ingly endless,  of  scarlet  coats  and  shields,  black  hulls, 
gilded  poops  and  vanes  and  beak-heads,  and  the  flash 
and  foam  of  innumerable  oars. 

And  nearer  and  louder  came  the  oar-roll,  like  thunder 
working  up  from  the  east ;  and  mingled  with  it,  that 
grim  yet  laughing  Heysaa,  which  bespoke  in  its  very 
note  the  revelry  of  slaughter. 

The  ships  had  all  their  sails  on  deck.  But  as  they 
came  nearer,  the  monks  could  see  the  banners  of  the 
two  foremost  vessels. 

The  one  was  the  red  and  white  of  the  terrible 
Dannebrog.  The  other,  the  scarcely  less  terrible 
Wake-knot  of  He  re  ward. 

1  "  This  befell  on  the  fourth  day  of  the  Nones  of  June."    So  says  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  Chronicle ;  from  which  the  details  of  <Jhe  sack  are  taken. 


HE  REWARD  THE   WAKE.  341 

"  He  will  burn  the  minster  !  He  has  vowed  to  do  it. 
As  a  child  he  vowed,  and  he  must  do  it.  In  this  very 
minster  the  fiend  entered  into  him  and  possessed  him  ; 
and  to  this  minster  has  the  fiend  brought  him'  back 
to  do  his  will.  Satan,  my  brethren,  having  a  special 
spite  (as  must  needs  be)  against  St.  Peter,  rock  and 
pillar  of  the  Holy  Church,  chose  out  and  inspired  this 
man,  even  from  his  mother's  womb,  tl.at  he  might  be 
the  foe  and  robber  of  St.  Peter,  and  the  hater  of  all 
who,  like  my  humility,  honour  him,  and  strive  to 
being-  this  English1  land  into  due  obedience  to  that 
blessed  Apostle.  Bring  forth  the  relics,  my  brethren. 
Bring  forth,  above  all  things,  those  filings  of  St. 
Peter's  own  chains,  the  special  glory  of  our  monastery 
— and  perhaps  its  safeguard  this  day." 

Some  such  bombast  would  any  monk  of  those  days 
have  talked  in  like  case.  And  yet,  so  strange  a  thing 
is  man,  he  might  have  been  withal,  like  Herluin,  a 
shrewd  and  valiant  man. 

They  brought  out  all  the  relics.  They  brought  out 
the  filings  themselves,  in  a  box  of  gold;  They  held 
them  out  over  the  walls  at  the  ships,  and  called  on  all 
the  saints  to  whom  they  belonged.  But  they  stopped 
that  line  of  scarlet,  black,  and  gold,  as  much  as  their 
spiritual  descendants  stop  the- lava-stream  of  Vesuvius, 
when  they  hold  out  similar  matters  at  them,  with  a 
hope  unchanged  by  the  experience  of  eight  hundred 
years.  The  Heysaa  rose  louder  and  nearer.  The 
Danes  were  coming.  And  they  came. 

And  all  the  while  a  thousand  skylarks  rose  from  off 
the  fen  and  chanted  their  own  chant  aloft,  as  if  appeal- 
ing- to  heaven  against  that  which  man's  greed,  and 
man's  rage,  and  man's  superstition,  had  made  of  this 
fair  earth  of  God'. 

The  relics  had  been  brought  out :  but,  as  they 
would  not  work,  the  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to  put 
them  back  again  and  hide  them  safe,  lest  they  should 
bow  down  like  Bel  and  stoop  like  Nebo,  and  be 


342  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

carried,  like  them,  into  captivity  themselves,  being 
worth  a  very  large  sum  of  money  in  the  eyes  of  the 
more  Christian  part  of  the  Danish  host. 

Then  to  hide  the  treasures  as  well  as  they  could; 
which  (says  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle)  they  hid 
somewhere  hi  the  steeple. 

The  Danes  were  landing  now.  The  shout  which 
they  gave  as  they  leaped  on  shore  made  the  hearts  of 
the  poor  monks  sink  low.  Would  they  be  murdered, 
as  well  as  robbed?  Perhaps  not — probably  not. 
Hereward  would  see  to  that.  And  some  wanted  to 
capitulate. 

Herluin  would  not  hear  of  it.  They  were  safe 
enough.  St.  Peter's  relics  might  not  have  worked  a 
miracle  on  the  spot :  but  they  must  have  done  some- 
thing. St.  Peter  had  been  appealed  to  on  his  honour, 
and  on  his  honour  he  must  surely  take  the  matter  up. 
At  all  events,  the  walls  and  gates  were  strong,  and 
the  Danes  had  no  artillery.  Let  them  howl  and  rage 
round  the  holy  place,  till  Abbot  Thorold  and  the 
Frenchmen  of  the  country  rose  and  drove  them  to 
their  ships. 

In  that  last  thought  the  cunning-  Frenchman  was 
not  so  far  wrong.  The  Danes  pushed  up  through  the 
little  town,  and  to  the  minster  gates  :  but  entrance 
was  impossible  ;  and  they  prowled  round  and  round 
like  raging  wolves  about  a  winter  steading- :  but  found 
no  crack  of  entry. 

Prior  Herluin  grew  bold  ;  and  coming  to  the  leads 
of  the  gateway  tower,  looked  over  cautiously,  and 
holding  up  a  certain  most  sacred  emblem — not  to  be 
profaned  in  these  pages — cursed  them  in  the  name  of 
his  whole  Pantheon. 

"Aha,  Herluin?  Are  you  there?"  asked  a  short 
square  man  in  gay  armour.  "  Have  you  forgotten 
the  peatstack  outside  Bolldyke  Gate,  and  how  you 
bade  light  it  under  me  thirty  years  since  ?  " 

"Thou  art  Winter?"   and  the  Prior  uttered  what 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  343 

would  be  considered  from  any  but  a  churchman's  lips 
a  blasphemous  and  bloodthirsty  curse. 

"Aha?  That  goes  like  rain  off  a  duck's  back  to 
one  who  has  been  a  minster  scholar  in  his  time. 
You  !  Danes  !  Ostmen  !  down  !  If  you  shoot  at  that 
man,  I'll  cut  your  heads  off.  He  is  the  oldest  foe  I 
have  in  the  world,  and  the  only  one  who  ever  hit  me 
without  my  hitting  him  again ;  and  nobody  shall 
touch  him  but  me.  So  down  bows,  I  say. 

The  Danes — humorous  all  of  thenv — saw  that  there 
was  a  jest  toward,  and  perhaps  some  earnest  too,  and 
joined  in  jeering  the  Prior 

Herluin  had  ducked  his  head  behind  the  parapet ; 
not  from  cowardice,  but  simply  because  he  had  on  no 
mail ;  and  might  be  shot  any  moment.  But  when  he 
heard  Winter  forbid  them  to  touch  him,  he  lifted  up 
his  head,  and  gave  his  old  pupil  as  good  as  he 
brought. 

With  his  sharp  swift  French  priest's  tongue  he 
sneered,  he  jeered,  he  scolded,  he  argued ;  and  then 
threatened.  Suddenly  changing  his  tone,  in  words 
of  real  eloquence  he  appealed  to  the  superstitions  of 
his  hearers.  He  threatened  them  with  supernatural 
vengeance.  He  set  before  them  all  the  terrors  of  the 
unseen  world. 

Some  of  them  began  to  slink  away  frightened.  St. 
Peter  was  an  ill  man  to  have  a  blood  feud  with. 

Winter  stood,  laughing  and  jeering  in  return,  for 
full  ten  minutes.  At  last — "  I  asked,  and  you  have 
not  answered  :  have  you  forgotten  the  old  peatstack 
outside  Bolldyke  Gate  ?  For  if  you  have,  The  Wake 
has  not.  He  has  piled  it  against  the  gate,  and  it 
should  be  burnt  through  by  this  time.  Go  and  see." 

Herluin  disappeared  with  a  curse. 

"Now,  you  seacocks,"  said  Winter,  springing  up. 
"  We'll  to  the  Bolldyke  Gate,  and  all  start  fair." 

The  Bolldyke  Gate  was  on  fire ;  and  more,  so  were 
the  suburbs.  There  was  no  time  to  save  them,  as 


344  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Hereward  would  gladly  have  done,  for  the  sake  of 
the  corrodiers.  They  must  go : — on  to  the  Bolldyke 
Gate.  Who  cared  to  put  out  flames  behind  him,  with 
all  the  treasures  of  Golden  Borough  before  him  ?  In 
a  few  minutes  all  the  town  was  alight.  In  a  few 
minutes  more,  the  monastery  likewise. 

A  fire  is  detestable  enough  at  all  times,  but  most 
detestable  by  day.  At  night  it  is  customary  ;  a  work 
of  darkness  which  lights  up  the  dark  ;  picturesque, 
magnificent,  with  a  fitness  Tartarean  and  diabolic. 
But  under  a  glaring  sun,  amid  green  fields  and  blue 
skies,  all  its  wickedness  is  revealed  without  its  beauty. 
You  see  its  works,  and  little  more.  The  flame  is 
hardly  noticed.  All  that  is  seen  is  a  canker  eating  up 
God's  works,  breaking  the  bones  of  its  prey  with  a 
horrible  cracking  uglier  than  all  stage-scene  glares, 
cruelly  and  shamelessly  under  the  very  eye  of  the 
great,  honest,  kindly  sun. 

And  that  felt  Hereward,  as  he  saw  Peterborough 
burn.  He  could  not  put  his  thoughts  into  words,  as 
men  of  this  day  can :  so  much  the  better  for  him, 
perhaps.  But  he  felt  all  the  more  intensely — as  did 
men  of  his  day — the  things  he  could  not  speak.  All 
he  said  was,  aside  to  Winter  : 

"It  is  a  dark  job.  I  wish  it  had  been  done  in  the 
dark."  And  Winter  knew  what  he  meant. 

Then  the  men  rushed  into  the  Bolldyke  Gate,  while 
Hereward  and  Winter  stood  and  looked  with  their 
men,  whom  they  kept  close  together,  waiting  their 
commands.  The  Danes  and  their  allies  cared  not  for 
the  great  glowing  heap  of  peat.  They  cared  not  for 
each  other,  hardly  for  themselves.  They  rushed  into 
the  gap  ;  they  thrust  the  glowing  heap  inward  through 
the  gateway  with  their  lances ;  they  thrust  each 
other  down  into  it,  and  trampled  over  them  to  fall 
themselves,  rising  scorched  and  withered,  and  yet 
struggling  on  toward  the  gold  of  the  Golden  Borough. 
One  savage  Lett  caught  another  round  the  waist,  and 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  345 

hurled  him  bodily  into  the  fire,  crying  in  his  wild 
tongue : 

"  You  will  make  a  good  stepping-stone  for  me." 

"That  is  not  fair,"  quoth  Hereward,  and  clove  him 
to  the  chine. 

It  was  wild  work.  But  the  Golden  Borough  was 
won. 

"We  must  in  now  and  save  the  monks,"  said 
Hereward,  and  dashed  over  the  embers. 

He  was  only  just  in  time.  In  the  midst  of  the  great 
court  were  all  the  monks,  huddled  together  like  a  flock 
of  sheep,  some  kneeling,  most  weeping  bitterly,  after 
the  fashion  of  monks. 

Only  Herluin  stood  in  front  of  them,  at  bay,  a  lofty 
crucifix  in  his  hand.  He  had  no  mind  to  weep.  But 
with  a  face  of  calm  and  bitter  wrath,  he  preferred 
words  of  peace  and  entreaty.  They  were  what  the 
time  needed.  Therefore  they  should  be  given.  To- 
morrow he  would  write  to  Bishop  Egelsin,  to  excom- 
municate with  bell,  book,  and  candle,  to  the  lowest 
pit  of  Tartarus,  all  who  had  done  the  deed. 

But  to-day  he  spoke  them  fair.  However,  his  fair 
speeches  profited  little,  not  being  understood  by  a 
horde  of  Letts  and  Finns,  who  howled  and  bayed  at 
him,  and  tried  to  tear  the  crucifix  from  his  hands  :  but 
feared  "The  white  Christ." 

They  were  already  gaining  courage  from  their 
own  yells ;  in  a  moment  more  blood  would  have 
been  shed,  and  then  a  general  massacre  must  have 
ensued. 

Hereward  saw  it,  and  shouting  "After  me,  Here- 
ward's  men  !  A  Wake  !  A  Wake  !  "  swung  Letts  and 
Finns  right  and  left  like  cornsheaves,  and  stood  face 
to  face  with  Herluin. 

An  angry  savage  smote  him  on  the  hind  head  full 
with  a  stone  axe.  He  staggered,  and  then  looked 
round  and  laughed. 

"  Fool !  hast  thou  not  heard  that  Hereward's  armour 


346  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

was  forged  by  dwarfs  in  the  mountain-bowels  ?  Off, 
and  hunt  for  g'old,  or  it  will  be  all  gone." 

The  Finn,  who  was  astonished  at  getting  no  more 
from  his  blow  than  a  few  sparks,  and  expected  instant 
death  in  return,  took  the  hint  and  vanished  jabbering, 
as  did  his  fellows. 

"  Now,  Herluin  the  Frenchman  !  "  said  Hereward. 

"Now,  Hereward  the  robber  of  saints!"  said 
Herluin. 

It  was  a  fine  sight.  The  soldier  and  the  churchman, 
the  Englishman  and  the  Frenchman,  the  man  of  the 
then  world,  and  the  man  of  the  then  Church,  pitted 
fairly,  face  to  face. 

Hereward  tried  for  one  moment  to  stare  down 
Herluin.  But  those  terrible  eye-glances,  before  which 
Vikings  had  quailed,  turned  off  harmless  from  the 
more  terrible  glance  of  the  man  who  believed  himself 
backed  by  the  Maker  of  the  universe,  and  all  the 
hierarchy  of  heaven. 

A  sharp,  unlovely  face  it  was ;  though,  like  many 
a  great  churchman's  face  of  those  days,  it  was  neither 
thin  nor  haggard  :  but  rather  round,  sleek,  of  a  puffy 
and  unwholesome  paleness.  But  there  was  a  thin  lip 
above  a  broad  square  jaw,  which  showed  that  Herluin 
was  neither  fool  nor  coward. 

"  A  robber  and  a  child  of  Belial  thou  hast  been 
from  thy  cradle ;  and  a  robber  and  a  child  of  Belial 
thou  art  now.  Dare  thy  last  iniquity.  Slay  the 
servants  of  St.  Peter  on  St.  Peter's  altar,  with  thy 
worthy  comrades,  the  heathen  Saracens,1  and  set  up 
Mahound  with  them  in  the  holy  place." 

Hereward  laughed  so  jolly  a  laugh,  that  the  Prior 
was  taken  aback. 

"  Slay  St.  Peter's  monks?  Not  even  his  rats  !  1 
am  a  monk's  knight,  as  my  knot  testifies.  There  shall 

1  The  Danes  were  continually  mistaken  by  mediaeval  churchmen  tor  Saracens, 
and  the  Saracens  considered  to  be  idolaters.  A  mautnee.  or  idol,  means  a 
Mahomet. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  347 

not  a  hair  of  your  head  be  touched.  Only,  I  must 
clear  out  all  Frenchmen  hence ;  and  all  Englishmen 
likewise,  as  storks  have  chosen  to  pack  with  the 
cranes.  Here,  Hereward's  men  !  march  these  traitors 
and  their  French  Prior  safe  out  of  the  walls,  and  into 
Milton  Woods,  to  look  after  their  poor  corrodiers." 

"  Out  of  this  place  I  stir  not.  Here  I  am  ;  and  here 
I  will  live  or  die,  as  St.  Peter  shall  send  aid." 

But  as  he  spoke,  he  was  precipitated  rudely  forward, 
and  hurried  almost  into  Hereward's  arms.  The  whole 
body  of  monks,  when  they  heard  Hereward's  words, 
cared  to  hear  no  more  :  but,  desperate  between  fear 
and  joy,  rushed  forward,  bearing  away  their  Prior  in 
the  midst. 

"  So  go  the  rats  out  of  Peterborough,  and  so  is  my 
dream  fulfilled.  Now  for  the  treasure,  and  then  to 
Ely." 

But  Herluin  burst  himself  clear  of  the  frantic  mob 
of  monks,  and  turned  back  on  Hereward. 

"  Thou  wast  dubbed  knight  in  that  church  !  " 

"  I  know  it,  man,  and  that  church  and  the  relics  of 
the  saints  in  it  are  safe  therefore.  Hereward  gives  his 
word." 

"  That — but  not  that  only,  if  thou  art  a  true  knight, 
as  thou  boldest,  Englishman." 

Hereward  growled  savagely,  and  made  an  ugly  step 
toward  Herluin.  That  was  a  point  which  he  would 
not  have  questioned. 

"Then  behave  as  a  knight,  and  save,  save," — as 
the  monks  dragged  him  away, — "  save  the  hospice  ! 
There  are  women — ladies  there  !  "  shouted  he,  as  he 
was  borne  off. 

They  never  met  again  on  earth  :  but  both  comforted 
themselves  in  after  years,  that  two  old  enemies'  last 
deed  in  common  had  been  one  of  mercy. 

Hereward  uttered  a  cry  of  horror.  If  the  wild  Letts, 
even  the  Jomsburgers,  had  got  in,  all  was  lost.  He- 
rushed  to  the  doer.  It  was  not  vet  burst :  but  a 


348  HEREWARD  TKE   WAKE. 

bench,  swung  by  strong  arms,  was  battering"  it  in 
last 

"Winter!  Gery !  Siwards  1  To  me,  Hereward's 
men  !  Stand  back,  fellows.  Here  are  friends  here 
inside.  If  you  do  not,  I'll  cut  you  down." 

But  in  vain.  The  door  was  burst,  and  in  poured  the 
savage  mob.  Hereward,  unable  to  stop  them,  headed 
them,  or  pretended  to  do  so,  with  five  or  six  of  his 
o;^n  men  round  him,  and  went  into  the  hall. 

OL  the  rushes  lay  some  half-dozen  grooms.  They 
were  butchered  instantly,  simply  because  they  were 
there.  Hereward  saw :  but  could  not  prevent.  He 
ran  as  hard  as  he  could  to  the  foot  of  the  wooden  stair 
which  led  to  the  upper  floor 

"  Guard  the  stair-foot,  Winter  !  "  and  he  ran  up. 

Two  women  cowered  upon  the  floor,  shrieking  and 
praying  with  hands  clasped  over  their  heads.  He  saw 
that  the  arms  of  one  of  them  were  of  the  most  delicate 
whiteness,  and  judging  her  to  be  the  lady,  bent  over 
her.  "  Lady !  you  are  safe.  I  will  protect  you.  I 
am  Hereward." 

She  sprang  up,  and  threw  herself  with  a  scream 
into  his  arms. 

"Hereward!  Hereward!    Save  me.     lam ' 

"  Alftruda !  "  said  Hereward. 

It  was  Alftruda ;  if  possible  more  beautiful  than  ever. 

"I  have  got  you!"  she  cried.  "I  am  safe  now. 
Take  me  away — Out  of  this  horrible  place — Take  me 
into  the  woods — Anywhere — Only  do  not  let  me  be 
burnt  here — stifled  like  a  rat.  Give  me  air  !  Give  me 
water  !  "  And  she  dung  to  him  so  madly,  that  Here- 
ward, as  he  held  her  in  his  arms,  and  gazed  on  her 
extraordinary  beauty,  forgot  Torfrida  for  the  second 
time. 

But  there  was  no  time  to  indulge  in  evil  thoughts, 
even  had  any  crossed  his  mind.  He  caught  her  in  his 
arms,  and  commanding  the  maid  to  follow,  hurried 
down  the  stair. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  349 

Winter  and  the  Siwards  were  defending-  the  foot 
with  swinging1  blades.  The  savages  were  howling- 
round  like  curs  about  a  bull ;  and  when  Hereward 
appeared  above  with  the  women,  there  was  a  loud 
yell  of  rage  and  envy. 

He  should  not  have  the  women  to  himself — They 
would  share  the  plunder  equally — was  shouted  in  half 
a  dozen  barbarous  dialects. 

"Have  you  left  any  valuables  in  the  chamber?" 
whispered  he  to  Alftruda. 

"Yes,  jewels — robes — Let  them  hare  aM,  only  save 
me  I" 

"  Let  me  pass  !  "  roared  Hereward.  "There  is  rich 
booty  in  the  room  above,  and  you  may  have  it  as  these 
ladies'  ransom.  Them  you  do  not  touch.  Back,  I 
say,  let  me  pass  !  " 

And  he  rushed  forward.  Winter  and  the  house- 
carles  formed  round  him  and  the  women,  and  hurried 
down  the  hall ;  while  the  savages  hurried  up  the 
ladder,  to  quarrel  over  their  spoil. 

They  were  out  in  the  courtyard,  and  safe  for  the 
moment.  But  whither  should  he  take  her  ? 

"To  Earl  Asbiorn,"  said  one  of  the  Siwards.  But 
how  to  find  him  ? 

"There  is  Bishop  Christiern  !  "  And  the  Bishop  was 
caught  and  stopped. 

"This  is  an  evil  day's  work,  Sir  Hereward.** 

"Then  help  to  mend  it  by  taking-  care  of  these 
ladies,  like  a  man  of  God."  And  he  explained  the 
case. 

"You  may  come  safely  with  me,  my  poor  Iambs," 
said  the  Bishop.  "I  am  grlad  to  find  something-  to 
do  fit  for  a  churchman.  To  me,  my  housecarles." 

But  they  were  all  off  plundering-. 

"  We  will  stand  by  you  and  the  ladies,  and  see  you 
safe  down  to  the  ships,"  said  Winter,  and  so  they 
went  off. 

Hereward  would  gladly  have  gone  with   them,  as 


350  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Alftruda  piteously  entreated  him.  But  he  heard  his 
name  called  on  every  side  in  angry  tones. 

"  Who  wants  Hereward  ?  " 

"  Earl  Asbiorn — Here  he  is." 

"  Those  scoundrel  monks  have  hidden  all  the  altar 
furniture.  If  you  wish  to  save  them  from  being 
tortured  to  death,  you  had  best  find  it." 

Hereward  ran  with  him  into  the  cathedral.  It  was 
a  hideous  sight ;  torn  books  and  vestments  ;  broken 
tabernacle-work  ;  foul  savages  swarming  in  and  out 
of  every  dark  aisle  and  cloister,  like  wolves  in  search 
of  prey ;  five  or  six  ruffians  aloft  upon  the  rood- 
screen  ;  one  tearing  the  golden  crown  from  the  head 
of  the  crucifix,  another  the  golden  footstool  from  its 
feet.1 

As  Hereward  came  up,  crucifix  and  man  fell  to- 
gether, crashing  upon  the  pavement,  amid  shouts  of 
brutal  laughter. 

He  hurried  past  them,  shuddering,  into  the  choir. 
The  altar  was  bare  ;  the  golden  pallium  which  covered 
it,  gone. 

"  It  may  be  in  the  crypt  below.  I  suppose  the 
monks  keep  their  relics  there,"  said  Asbiorn. 

"  No !  Not  there.  Do  not  touch  the  relics ! 
Would  you  have  the  curse  of  all  the  saints  ?  Stay  ! 
I  know  an  old  hiding-place.  It  may  be  there.  Up 
into  the  steeple  with  me." 

And  in  a  chamber  in  the  steeple  they  found  the 
golden  pall,  and  treasures  countless  and  wonderful. 

"  We  had  better  keep  the  knowledge  of  this  to  our- 
selves awhile,"  said  Earl  Asbiorn,  looking  with  greedy 
eyes  on  a  heap  of  wealth  such  as  he  had  never  beheld 
before. 

"  Not  we  !  Hereward  is  a  man  of  his  word,  and 
we  will  share  and  share  alike." 

"What  will  you?"     And  Asbiorn  caught  him  by 


•>  The  crucifix  was  probably  of  the  Greek  pattern,  in  which  the  figure  stood 
upon  a  flat  slab,  projecting  from  the  cross. 


II  ERE  WARD  THE   WAKE.  351 

the  arm.  "  This  treasure  belongs  of  right  to  Sweyn 
the  king." 

"  It  belongs  to  St.  Peter,  who  must  lend  it  to-day 
to  save  the  poor  fen-men  from  robbers  and  ravishers  ; 
and  not  to  any  king  on  earth.  Take  off  thine  hand, 
Jarl,  if  thou  wouldst  keep  it  safe  on  thy  body." 

Asbiorn  drew  back,  gnashing  his  teeth  with  rage. 
To  strike  Hereward,  was  more  than  he,  or  any 
Berserker  in  his  host,  dared  do :  and  beside,  he  felt 
that  Hereward's  words  were  just. 

"Hither!"  shouted  Hereward  down  the  stair. 
"Up  hither,  Vikings,  Berserkers,  and  seacocks  all! 
Here,  Jutlanders,  Jomsburgers,  Letts,  Finns,  witches' 
sons  and  devils'  sons  all  !  Here  is  gold,  here  is  the 
dwarfs  work,  here  is  the  dragon's  hoard  !  Come  up 
and  take  your  Polotaswarf!  You  would  not  get  a 
richer  out  of  the  Kaiser's  treasury.  Here,  wolves  and 
ravens,  eat  gold,  drink  gold,  roll  in  gold,  and  know 
that  Hereward  is  a  man  of  his  word,  and  pays  his 
soldiers'  wages  royally." 

They  rushed  up  the  narrow  stair,  trampling  each 
other  to  death,  and  thrust  Hereward  and  the  Earl, 
choking,  into  a  corner.  The  room  was  so  full  for  a 
few  moments,  that  some  died  in  it.  Hereward  and 
Asbiorn,  protected  by  their  strong  armour,  forced 
their  way  to  the  narrow  window,  and  breathed  through 
it,  looking  out  upon  the  sea  of  flame  below. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  Jarl,"  said  Hereward.  "  But 
for  the  poor  Englishmen's  sake,  so  it  must  be." 

"  King  Sweyn  shall  judge  of  that.  Why  dost  hold 
my  wrist,  man  ?  " 

"Daggers  are  apt  to  get  loose  in  such  a  press  as 
this." 

"  Always  The  Wake,"  said  Asbiorn,  with  a  forced 
laugh. 

"Always  The  Wake.  And  as  thou  saidst,  King 
Sweyn  the  just  shall  judge  between  us." 

Jarl  Asbiorn    swung   from    him,  and  into  the  now 


352  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

thinning-  press.  Soon  only  a  few  remained,  to  search, 
by  the  glare  of  the  flames,  for  what  their  fellows  might 
have  overlooked. 

"Now  the  play  is  played  out,"  said  Hereward,  "we 
may  as  well  go  down,  and  to  our  ships." 

Some  drunken  ruffians  would  have  burnt  the  church 
for  mere  mischief.  But  Asbiorn,  as  well  as  Hereward, 
stopped  that.  And  gradually  they  got  the  men  down 
to  the  ships ;  some  drunk,  some  struggling  under 
plunder  ;  some  cursing  and  quarrelling  because  nothing 
had  fallen  to  their  lot.  It  was  a  hideous  scene  :  but 
one  to  which  Hereward,  as  well  as  Asbiorn,  was  too 
well  accustomed  to  see  aught  in  it  save  an  hour's 
inevitable  trouble  in  getting  the  men  on  board. 

The  monks  had  all  fled.     Only  Leofwin  the  Lorn 
was  left,  and  he  lay  sick  in  the  infirmary.     Whether 
he  was  burned  therein,  or  saved  by  Hereward's  men, 
is  not  told. 

And  so  was  the  Golden  Borough  sacked  and  burnt. 
Now  then,  whither? 

The  Danes  were  to  go  to  Ely,  and  join  the  army 
there.  Hereward  would  march  on  to  Stamford  ; 
secure  the  town  if  he  could  ;  then  to  Huntingdon,  to 
secure  it  likewise  ;  and  on  to  Ely  afterwards. 

"You  will  not  leave  me  among  these  savages?" 
said  Alftruda. 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  You  shall  come  with  me  as  far 
as  Stamford,  and  then  I  will  set  you  on  your  way." 

"  My  way  ?  "  said  Alftruda,  in  a  bitter  and  hopeless 
tone. 

Hereward  mounted  her  on  a  good  horse,  and  rode 
beside  her,  looking — and  he  well  knew  it — a  very 
perfect  knight.  Soon  they  began  to  talk.  What  had 
brought  Alftruda  to  Peterborough,  of  all  places  on 
earth  ? 

"A  woman's  fortune.  Because  I  am  rich — and 
some  say  fair — I  am  a  puppet,  a  slave,  a  prey.  I  was 
going  back  to  my — to  Dolfin." 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  353 

"  Have  you  been  away  from  him,  then  ?  " 

"  What  ?     Do  you  not  know  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know,  lady  ?  " 

"Yes,  most  true.  How  should  Herewartl  know 
anything  about  Alftruda  ?  But  I  will  tell  you.  Maybe 
you  may  not  care  to  hear  ?  " 

"About  you?  Anything.  I  have  often  longed  to 
know  how — what  you  were  doing." 

"Is  it  possible ?  Is  there  one  human  being  left  on 
earth  who  cares  to  hear  about  Alftruda  ?  Then  listen. 
You  know  that  when  Gospatric  fled  to  Scotland  his 
sons  went  with  him — young  Gospatric,  Waltheof,1 
and  he — Dolfin.  Ethelreda,  his  girl,  went  too — and 
she  is  to  marry,  they  say,  Duncan,  Malcolm's  eldest 
son  by  Ingebiorg.  So  Gospatric  will  find  himself, 
some  day,  father-in-law  of  the  King  of  Scots." 

"  I  will  warrant  him  to  find  his  nest  well  lined, 
wherever  he  be.  But  of  yourself?  " 

"  I  refused  to  go.  I  could  not  face  again  that  bleak 
black  North.  Beside — but  that  is  no  concern  of 
Hereward's " 

Hereward  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "Can 
anything  concern  you,  and  not  be  interesting  to 
me?" 

But  she  went  on  : 

"  I  refused,  and " 

"  And  he  misused  you  ?  "  asked  he  fiercely. 

"  Better  if  he  had.  Better  if  he  had  tied  me  to  his 
stirrup,  and  scourged  me  along  into  Scotland,  than 
have  left  me  to  new  dangers,  and  to  old  temptations." 

"  What  temptations  ?" 

Alftruda  did  not  answer :  but  went  on  : 

"He  told  me  in  his  lofty  Scots'  fashion,  that  I  was 
free  to  do  what  I  list.  That  he  had  long  since  seen 

1  This  Waltheof  Gospatricsson  must  not  be  confounded  with  Waltheof 
Siwardsson,  the  young-  Earl.  He  became  a  wild  border  chieftain,  then  Baron 
of  Atterdale,  and  then  gave  Atterdale  to  his  sister,  Queen  Ethelreda,  and 
turned  monk,  and  at  last  Abbot,  of  Crowland;  crawling  home,  poor  fellow, 
like  many  another,  to  die  in  peace  in  the  sanctuary  of  the  Danes. 

II.  W.  M 


354  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

that  I  cared  not  for  him  ;  and  that  he  would  find  many 
a  fairer  lady  in  his  own  land." 

"There  he  lied.  So  you  did  not  care  for  him?  He 
is  a  noble  knight." 

"  What  is  that  to  me?  Women's  hearts  are  not  to 
be  bought  and  sold  with  their  bodies,  as  I  was  sold. 
Care  for  him?  I  care  for  no  creature  upon  earth. 
Once  I  cared  for  Hereward,  like  a  silly  child.  Now 
I  care  not  even  for  him." 

Hereward  was  sorry  to  hear  that.  Men  are 
vainer  than  women  ;  just  as  peacocks  are  vainer  than 
peahens;  and  Hereward  was — alas  for  him!  —  a 
specially  vain  man.  Of  course,  for  him  to  fall  in  love 
with  Alftruda,  would  have  been  a  shameful  sin ;  he 
would  not  have  committed  it  for  all  the  treasures  of 
Constantinople  :  but  it  was  a  not  unpleasant  thought 
that  Alftruda  should  fall  in  love  with  him.  But  he 
only  said,  tenderly  and  courteously  : 

"Alas!  poor  lady!" 

"  Poor  lady.  Too  true,  that  last.  For  whither  am 
I  going  now?  Back  to  that  man  once  more." 

"ToDolfin?" 

"To  my  master,  like  a  runaway  slave.  I  went 
down  South  to  Queen  Matilda.  I  knew  her  well,  and 
she  was  kind  to  me,  as  she  is  to  all  things  that  breathe. 
But  now  that  Gospatric  is  come  into  the  King's  grace 
again,  and  has  bought  the  earldom  of  Northumbria, 
from  Tees  to  Tyne " 

"  Bought  the  earldom  ?  " 

"  That  has  he  ;  and  paid  for  it  right  heavily." 

"  Traitor  and  fool !  He  will  not  keep  it  seven  years. 
The  Frenchman  will  pick  a  quarrel  with  him,  and 
cheat  him  out  of  earldom  and  money  too." 

The  which  William  did,  within  three  years. 

"  May  it  be  so  !     But  when  he  came  into  the  King's 
grace,  he  must  needs  demand  me  back  in  his  son's 
name." 
"  What  does  Dolfin  want  with  you?" 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  355 

"  His  father  wants  my  money  ;  and  stipulated  for  it 
with  the  King-.  And  besides,  I  suppose  I  am  a  pretty 
plaything  enough  still." 

"You?  You  are  divine,  perfect.  Dolfin  is  right. 
How  could  a  man  who  had  once  enjoyed  you,  live 
without  you  ?  " 

Alftruda  laughed,  a  laugh  full  of  meaning :  but 
what  that  meaning-  was  Hereward  could  not  divine. 

"So  now,"  she  said,  "what  Hereward  has  to  do, 
as  a  true  and  courteous  knight,  is  to  give  Alftruda  safe 
conduct,  and,  if  he  can,  a  guard  ;  and  to  deliver  her 
up  loyally  and  knightly  to  his  old  friend  and  fellow- 
warrior,  Dolfin  Gospatricsson,  Earl  of  whatever  he 
can  lay  hold  of  for  the  current  month." 

"  Are  you  in  earnest? " 

Alftruda  laughed  one  of  her  strange  laughs,  looking 
straight  before  her.  Indeed  she  had  never  looked 
Hereward  in  the  face  during  the  whole  ride. 

"  What  are  those  open  holes  ?     Graves  ?  " 

"They  are  Barnack  stone  quarries,  which  Waltheof 
the  Wittol  has  just  given  away  to  Crowland.  Better 
that,  though,  than  keep  them  for  his  new  French 
cousins  to  build  castles  withal." 

"So?  That  is  pity.  I  thought  they  had  been 
graves  ;  and  then  you  might  have  covered  me  up  in 
one  of  them,  and  left  me  to  sleep  in  peace." 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Alftruda,  my  old  play- 
fellow, Alftruda,  whom  I  saved  from  the  bear  ?  " 

"  If  Alftruda  had  foreseen  the  second  monster  into 
whose  jaws  she  was  to  fall,  she  would  have  prayed  you 
to  hold  that  terrible  hand  of  yours,  which  never  since, 
men  say,  has  struck  without  victory  and  renown. 
You  won  your  first  honour  for  my  sake.  But  who 
am  I  now,  that  you  should  turn  out  of  your  glorious 
path  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  anything — anything.  But  why  miscall 
this  noble  prince  a  monster  ?  " 

"If  he  were  fairer  than  St.  John,  more  wise  than 


356  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

Solomon,  and  more  valiant  than  King1  William,  he 
is  to  me  a  monster ;  for  I  loathe  him,  and  I  know 
not  why.  But  do  your  duty  as  a  knight,  sir.  Convey 
the  lawful  wife  to  her  lawful  spouse." 

"  What  cares  an  outlaw  for  law,  in  a  land  where 
law  is  dead  and  gone  ?  I  will  do  what  I — what  you 
like.  Come  with  me  to  Torfrida  at  Bourne  ;  and  let 
me  see  the  man  who  dares  try  to  take  you  out  of 
my  hand." 

Alftruda  laughed  again. 

"  No,  no.  I  should  interrupt  the  doves  in  their 
nest.  Beside,  the  billing  and  cooing  might  make 
me  envious.  And  I,  alas  !  who  carry  misery  with  me 
round  the  land,  might  make  your  Torfrida  jealous." 

Hereward  was  of  the  same  opinion,  and  rode  silent 
and  thoughtful  through  the  great  woods  which  are 
now  the  noble  park  of  Burghley. 

"I  have  found  it! "said  he  at  last.  "Why  not 
go  to  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  at  Lincoln  ?  " 

"  Gilbert  ?     Why  should  he  befriend  me  ?  " 

"  He  will  do  that,  or  anything  else,  which  is  for 
his  own  profit." 

"  Profit?  All  the  world  seems  determined  to  make 
profit  out  of  me.  I  presume  you  would,  if  I  had  come 
with  you  to  Bourne." 

"I  do  not  doubt  it.  This  is  a  very  wild  sea  to 
swim  in  ;  and  a  man  must  be  forgiven  if  he  catches 
at  every  bit  of  drift  timber." 

"Selfishness,  selfishness  everywhere;  —  and  I 
suppose  you  expect  to  gain  by  sending  me  to  Gilbert 
of  Ghent?" 

"  I  shall  gain  nothing,  Alftruda,  save  the  thought 
that  you  are  not  so  far  from  me — from  us — but  that 
we  can  hear  of  you — send  succour  to  you  if  you  need." 

Alftruda  was  silent.     At  last : 

"And  you  think  that  Gilbert  would  not  be  afraid 
of  angering  the  king  ?  " 

"  He  would  not  anger  the  king.     Gilbert's  friend- 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  357 

ship  is  more  important  to  William,  at  this  moment, 
than  that  of  a  dozen  Gospatrics.  He  holds  Lincoln 
town,  and  with  it  the  key  of  Waltheof  s  earldom  : 
and  things  may  happen,  Alftruda — I  tell  you  :  but  if 
you  tell  Gilbert,  may  Hereward's  curse  be  on  you  ! " 

"Not  that!  Any  man's  curse  save  yours!"  said 
she,  in  so  passionate  a  voice  that  a  thrill  of  fire  ran 
through  Hereward.  And  he  recollected  her  scoff  at 
Bruges — "So  he  could  not  wait  for  me?"  And  a 
storm  of  evil  thoughts  swept  through  him.  "  Would 
to  heaven ! "  said  he  to  himself,  crushing  them 
gallantly  down,  "I  had  never  thought  of  Lincoln. 
But  there  is  no  other  plan." 

But  he  did  not  tell  Alftruda  as  he  had  meant  to 
do,  that  she  might  see  him  soon  in  Lincoln  Castle  as 
its  conqueror  and  lord.  He  half  hoped  that  when 
that  day  came,  Alftruda  might  be  somewhere  else. 

"Gilbert  can  say,"  he  went  on,  steadying  himself 
again,  "that  you  feared  to  go  north  on  account  of 
the  disturbed  state  of  the  country ;  and  that,  as  you 
had  given  yourself  up  to  him  of  your  own  accord, 
he  thought  it  wisest  to  detain  you,  as  a  hostage  for 
Dolfin's  allegiance." 

"  He  shall  say  so.     I  will  make  him  say  so." 

"  So  be  it.  Now,  here  we  are  at  Stamford  town  ; 
and  I  must  to  my  trade.  Do  you  like  to  see  fighting, 
Alftruda — the  man's  game,  the  royal  game,  the  only 
game  worth  a  thought  on  earth?  For  you  are  like 
to  see  a  little  in  the  next  ten  minutes." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  fight.  They  tell  me  none 
is  so  swift  and  terrible  in  the  battle  as  Hereward. 
How  can  you  be  otherwise,  who  slew  the  bear — when 
we  were  two  happy  children  together?  But  shall  I 
be  safe  ?  " 

"Safe?  of  course,"  said  Hereward,  who  longed, 
peacock-like,  to  show  off  his  prowess  before  a  lady 
who  was— there  was  no  denying  it — far  more  beautiful 
than  even  Torfrida. 


358  HEREWARD   THE  WAKE. 

But  he  had  no  opportunity  to  show  off  that  prowess. 
For,  as  he  galloped  in  over  Stamford  Bridge,  Abbot 
Thorold  galloped  out  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  town 
through  Casterton,  and  up  the  Roman  road  to 
Grantham. 

After  whom  Hereward  sent  Alftruda  (for  he  heard 
that  Thorold  was  going  to  Gilbert  at  Lincoln)  with  a 
guard  of  knights  ;  bidding  them  do  him  no  harm, 
but  saying  that  Hereward  knew  him  to  be  a  preux 
chevalier  and  lover  of  fair  ladies  ;  that  he  had  sent  him 
a  right  fair  one  to  bear  him  company  to  Lincoln  ;  and 
hoped  that  he  would  sing  to  her  on  the  way  the  song 
of  Roland. 

And  Alftruda,  who  knew  Thorold,  went  willingly, 
since  it  could  no  better  be. 

After  which,  according  to  Gaimar,  Hereward  tarried 
three  days  at  Stamford,  laying  a  heavy  tribute  on  the 
burgesses  for  harbouring  Thorold  and  his  Normans  ; 
and  also  surprised  at  a  drinking  bout  a  certain  special 
enemy  of  his,  and  chased  him  from  room  to  room  sword 
in  hand,  till  he  took  refuge  shamefully  in  an  outhouse, 
and  begged  his  life.  And  when  his  knights  came  back 
from  Grantham,  he  marched  to  Bourne. 

"The  next  night,"  says  Richard  of  Ely,  or  it  may 
be  Leofric  himself,  "Hereward  saw  in  his  dreams  a 
man  standing  by  him  of  inestimable  beauty,  old  of  years, 
terrible  of  countenance,  in  all  the  raiment  of  his  body 
more  splendid  than  all  things  which  he  had  ever  seen, 
or  conceived  in  his  mind  ;  who  threatened  him  with  a 
great  club  which  he  carried  in  his  hand,  and  with  a 
fearful  doom,  that  he  should  take  back  to  his  church 
all  that  had  been  carried  off  the  night  before,  and  have 
them  restored  utterly,  each  in  its  place,  if  he  wished 
to  provide  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul,  and  escape  on 
the  spot  a  pitiable  death.  But  when  awakened,  he 
was  seized  with  a  divine  terror,  and  restored  in  the 
same  hour  all  that  he  took  away,  and  so  departed, 
going  onward  with  all  his  men." 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  359 

So  says  the  chronicler,  wishing",  as  may  be  well 
believed,  to  advance  the  glory  of  St.  Peter,  and  to 
purge  his  hero's  name  from  the  stain  of  sacrilege. 
Beside,  the  monks  of  Peterborough,  no  doubt,  had  no 
wish  that  the  world  should  spy  out  their  nakedness, 
and  become  aware  that  the  Golden  Borough  was 
stripped  of  all  its  gold. 

Nevertheless,  truth  will  out.  Golden  Borough  was 
Golden  Borough  no  more.  The  treasures  were  never 
restored  ;  they  went  to  sea  with  the  Danes,  and  were 
scattered  far  and  wide — to  Norway,  to  Ireland,  to 
Denmark;  "all  the  spoils,"  says  the  Anglo-Saxon 
Chronicle,  "  which  reached  the  latter  country,  being  the 
pallium  and  some  of  the  shrines  and  crosses  ;  and 
many  of  the  other  treasures  they  brought  to  one  of 
the  king's  towns,  and  laid  them  up  in  the  church.  But 
one  night,  through  their  carelessness  and  drunkenness, 
the  church  was  burned,  with  all  that  was  therein. 
Thus  was  the  minster  of  Peterborough  burned  and 
pillaged.  May  Almighty  God  have  pity  on  it  in  His 
great  mercy.  And  thus  Abbot  Turold  came  to  Peter- 
borough. .  .  .  When  Bishop  Egelric  heard  this,  he 
excommunicated  the  men  who  had  done  this  evil. 
There  was  a  great  famine  this  year." 

Hereward,  when  blamed  for  the  deed,  said  always 
that  he  did  it  "because  of  his  allegiance  to  the 
monastery." 

I  And  some  of  the  treasure,  at  least,  he  must  have 
surely  given  back,  he  so  appeased  the  angry  shade  of 
St.  Peter.  For  on  that  night,  when  marching-  past 
Stamford,  he  and  his  lost  their  way.  "To  whom  a 
certain  wonder  happened,  and  a  miracle,  if  it  can  be 
said  that  such  would  be  worked  in  favour  of  men  of 
blood.  For  while  in  the  wild  night  and  dark  they 
wandered  in  the  wood,  a  huge  wolf  met  them,  wagging 
his  tail  like  a  tame  dog,  and  went  before  them  on  a 
path.  And  they,  taking  the  gray  beast  in  the  darkness 
for  a  white  dog,  cheered  on  each  other  to  follow  him 


360  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

to  his  farm,  which  ought  to  be  hard  by.  And  in  the 
silence  of  the  midnight,  that  they  might  see  their  way, 
suddenly  candles  appeared,  burning,  and  clinging  to 
the  lances  of  all  the  knights — not  very  bright,  however  : 
but  like  those  which  the  folk  called  candelae  nympharum 
— wills  of  the  wisp.  But  none  could  pull  them  off,  or 
altogether  extinguish  them,  or  throw  them  from  their 
hands.  And  thus  they  saw  their  way,  and  went  on, 
although  astonished  out  of  mind,  with  the  wolf  leading 
them  until  day  dawned,  and  they  saw,  to  their  great 
astonishment,  that  he  was  a  wolf.  And  as  they 
questioned  among  themselves  about  what  had  befallen, 
the  wolf  and  the  candles  disappeared,  and  they  came 
whither  they  had  been  minded,  beyond  Stamford  town, 
thanking  God,  and  wondering  at  what  had  happened." 

After  which  Hereward  took  Torfrida,  and  his  child, 
and  all  he  had,  and  took  ship  at  Bardeney,  and  went 
for  Ely.  Which  when  Earl  Warrenne  heard,  he  laid 
wait  for  him,  seemingly  near  Littleport :  but  got  nothing 
thereby,  according  to  Richard  of  Ely,  but  the  pleasure 
of  giving  and  taking  a  great  deal  of  bad  language  ;  and 
(after  his  men  had  refused,  reasonably  enough,  to  swim 
the  Ouse  and  attack  Hereward)  an  arrow,  which 
Hereward,  "  modicum  se  inclinans,"  stooping  forward, 
says  the  chronicler — who  probably  saw  the  deed — shot 
at  him  across  the  Ouse,  as  the  Earl  stood  cursing  on 
the  top  of  the  dyke.  Which  arrow  flew  so  stout  and 
strong,  that  though  it  sprang  back  from  Earl 
Warrenne's  hauberk,  it  knocked  him  almost  senseless 
off  his  horse,  and  forced  him  to  defer  his  purpose  of 
avenging  Sir  Frederic  his  brother. 

After  which  Hereward  threw  himself  into  Ely,  and 
assumed,  by  consent  of  all,  the  command  of  the 
English  who  were  therein. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  361 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

HOW    THEY    HELD    A    GREAT   MEETING    IN    THE    HALL 
OF    ELY. 

THERE  sat  round  the  hall  of  Ely  all  the  magnates 
of  the  East  land  and  East  sea.  The  Abbot  was  on 
his  high  seat ;  and  on  a  seat  higher  than  his,  pre- 
pared specially,  Sweyn  Ulfsson,  King  of  Denmark 
and  England.  By  them  sat  the  bishops,  Egelwin  the 
Englishman  and  Christiern  the  Dane ;  Asbiorn ;  the 
young  Earls  Edwin  and  Morcar,  and  Sweyn's  two 
sons  ;  and,  it  may  be,  the  sons  of  Tosti  Godwinsson, 
and  Arkill  the  great  Thane,  and  Siward  Barn,  and 
Hereward  himself.  Below  them  were  knights,  vikings, 
captains,  great  Holders  from  Denmark,  and  the 
prior  and  inferior  officers  of  Ely  minster.  And  at  the 
bottom  of  the  misty  hall,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
column  of  blue  vapour  which  went  trembling  up  from 
the  great  heap  of  burning  turf  amidst,  were  house- 
carles,  monks,  wild  men  from  the  Baltic  shores, 
crowded  together  to  hear  what  was  done  in  that 
parliament  of  their  betters. 

They  spoke  like  free  Danes  ;  the  betters  from  the 
upper  end  of  the  hall,  but  every  man  as  he  chose. 
They  were  in  full  Thing  ;  in  parliament,  as  their 
forefathers  had  been  wont  to  be  for  countless  ages. 
Their  House  of  Lords  and  their  House  of  Commons 
were  not  yet  defined  from  each  other :  but  they  knew 
the  rules  of  the  house,  the  courtesies  of  debate  ;  and, 
by  practice  of  free  speech,  had  educated  themselves 
to  bear  and  forbear,  like  gentlemen. 

But  the  speaking  was  loud  and  earnest,  often  angry 
that  day.  "  What  was  to  be  done  ?  "  was  the  question 
before  the  house. 

"That  depended,"  said  Sweyn,  the  wise  and 
prudent  king-,  "  on  what  could  be  done  by  the  English 


362  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

to  co-operate  with  them."  And  what  that  was,  has 
been  already  told. 

"When  Tosti  Godwinsson,  ye  Bishops,  Jarls, 
Knights,  and  Holders,  came  to  me  five  years  ago, 
and  bade  me  take  my  rights  in  this  land  of  England, 
I  answered  him,  that  I  had  not  wit  enough  to  do  the 
deeds  which  Canute  my  uncle  did  ;  and  so  sat  still  in 
peace.  I  little  thought  that  I  should  have  lost  in  five 
years  so  much  of  those  small  wits  to  which  I  con- 
fessed, that  I  should  come  after  all  to  take  my  right- 
ful kingdom  of  England,  and  find  two  kings  in  it 
already,  both  more  to  the  English  mind  than  I  am. 
While  William  the  Frenchman  is  king  by  the  sword, 
and  Edgar  the  Englishman  king  by  proclamation  of 
Earls  and  Thanes,  there  seems  no  room  here  for 
Sweyn,  nephew  of  Canute,  king  of  kings." 

"  We  will  make  room  for  you  !  We  will  make  a  rid 
road  from  here  to  Winchester ! "  shouted  the  Meet- 
ing, with  one  voice. 

"It  is  too  late.  What  say  you,  Hereward 
Leofricsson,  who  go  for  a  wise  man  among  men  ?  " 

Hereward  rose,  and  spoke  gracefully,  earnestly, 
eloquently :  but  he  could  not  deny  Sweyn's  plain 
words. 

"The  Wake  beats  about  the  bush, >:  saidjarl  Asbiorn, 
rising  when  Hereward  sat  down.  ' '  None  knows  better 
than  he  that  all  is  over.  Earl  Edwin  and  Earl  Morcar, 
who  should  have  helped  us  along  Watling  Street,  are 
here  fugitives.  Earl  Gospatric  and  Earl  Waltheof 
are  William's  men  now,  soon  to  raise  the  landsfolk 
against  us.  We  had  better  go  home,  before  we  have 
eaten  up  the  monks  of  Ely." 

Then  Hereward  rose  again,  and  without  an  openly 
insulting  word,  poured  forth  his  scorn  and  rage  upon 
Asbiorn.  Why  had  he  not  kept  to  the  agreement 
which  he  and  Countess  Gyda  had  made  with  him 
through  Tosti's  sons  ?  Why  had  he  wasted  time  and 
men  from  Dover  to  Norwich,  instead  of  coming 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  363 

straight  into  the  fens,  and  marching  inland  to 
succour  Morcar  and  Edwin?  Asbiorn  had  ruined  the 
plan,  and  he  only,  if  it  was  ruined. 

"And  who  was  I,  to  obey  The  Wake?"  asked 
Asbiorn  fiercely. 

"And  who  wert  thou,  to  disobey  me?"  asked 
Sweyn,  in  a  terrible  voice.  "  Hereward  is  right.  We 
shall  see  what  thou  sayest  to  all  this,  in  full  Thing  at 
home  in  Denmark."  1 

Then  Edwin  rose,  entreating  peace.  "  They  were 
beaten.  The  hand  of  God  was  against  them.  Why 
should  they  struggle  any  more  ?  Or,  if  they  struggled 
on,  why  should  they  involve  the  Danes  in  their  own 
ruin?  " 

Then  man  after  man  rose,  and  spoke  rough  Danish 
common  sense.  They  had  come  hither  to  win  England. 
They  had  found  it  won  already.  Let  them  take  what 
they  had  got  from  Peterborough,  and  go. 

Then  Winter  sprang  up.  "Take  the  pay,  and  sail 
off  with  it,  without  having  done  the  work  ?  That 
would  be  a  noble  tale  to  carry  home  to  your  fair  wives 
in  Jutland.  I  shall  not  call  you  niddering,  being  a 
man  ef  peace,  as  all  know."  Whereat  all  laughed ; 
for  the  doughty  little  man  had  not  a  hand's  breadth 
on  head  or  arm  without  its  scar.  "  But  if  your  ladies 
call  you  so,  you  must  have  a  shrewd  answer  to  give, 
beside  knocking  them  down." 

Sweyn  spoke  without  rising:  "The  good  knight 
forgets  that  this  expedition  has  cost  Denmark  already 
nigh  as  much  as  Harold  Hardraade's  cost  Norway.  It 
is  hard  upon  the  Danes,  if  they  are  to  go  away  empty- 
handed  as  well  as  disappointed." 

"  The  King  has  right !  "  cried  Hereward.  "  Let  them 
take  the  plunder  of  Peterborough  as  pay  for  what  they 
have  done,  and  what  beside  they  would  have  done 
if  Asbiorn  the  Jarl  —  nay,  men  of  England,  let  us  be 
just ! — what  Asbiorn  himself  would  have  done  if  there 

1  Asbiorn  is  said  to  have  been  outlawed  on  his  return  home. 


364  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

had  been  heart  and  wit,  one  mind  and  one  purpose, 
in  England.  The  Danes  have  done  their  best.  They 
have  shown  themselves  what  they  are,  our  blood  and 
kin.  I  know  that  some  talk  of  treason,  of  bribes. 
Let  us  have  no  more  such  vain  and  foul  suspicions. 
They  came  as  our  friends  ;  and  as  our  friends  let  them 
gx>,  and  leave  us  to  fight  out  our  own  quarrel  to  the 
last  drop  of  blood." 

"Would  God!"  said  Sweyn,  "  thou  wouldest  go 
too,  thou  good  knight.  Here,  earls  and  gentlemen 
of  England  !  Sweyn  Ulfsson  offers  to  every  one  of 
you,  who  will  come  to  Denmark  with  him,  shelter 
and  hospitality  till  better  times  shall  come." 

Then  arose  a  mixed  cry.  Some  would  go,  some 
would  not.  Some  of  the  Danes  took  the  proposal 
cordially ;  some  feared  bringing  among  themselves 
men  who  would  needs  want  land,  of  which  there  was 
none  to  give.  If  the  English  came,  they  must  go 
up  the  Baltic,  and  conquer  fresh  lands  for  themselves 
from  heathen  Letts  and  Finns. 

Then  Hereward  rose  again,  and  spoke  so  nobly 
and  so  well,  that  all  ears  were  charmed. 

They  were  Englishmen  ;  and  they  would  rather  die 
in  their  own  merry  England  than  win  new  kingdoms 
in  the  cold  north-east.  They  were  sworn,  the  leaders 
of  them,  to  die  or  conquer,  fighting  the  accursed 
Frenchman.  They  were  bound  to  St.  Peter,  and  to 
St.  Guthlac,  and  to  St.  Felix  of  Ramsey,  and  St. 
Etheldreda  the  holy  virgin  beneath  whose  roof  they 
stood,  to  defend  against  Frenchmen  the  saints  of 
England  whom  they  despised  and  blasphemed,  whose 
servants  they  cast  out,  thrust  into  prison,  and  murdered, 
that  they  might  bring  in  Frenchmen  from  Normandy, 
Italians  from  the  Pope  of  Rome.  Sweyn  Ulfsson 
spoke  as  became  him,  as  a  prudent  and  a  generous 
prince  ;  the  man  who  alone  of  all  kings  defied  and 
fought  the  great  Hardraade  till  neither  could  fight 
more  ;  the  true  nephew  of  Canute  the  king  of  kings  : 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  365 

and  they  thanked  him  :  but  they  would  live  and  die 
Englishmen. 

And  every  Englishman  shouted,  "  Hereward  is 
right !  We  will  live  and  die  fighting  the  French." 

And  Sweyn  Ulfsson  rose  again,  and  said  with  a 
great  oath,  "That  if  there  had  been  three  such  men 
as  Hereward  in  England,  all  would  have  gone  well." 

Hereward  laughed.  "Thou  art  wrong  for  once, 
wise  king.  We  have  failed,  just  because  there  were 
a  dozen  men  in  England  as  good  as  I,  every  man 
wanting  his  own  way  ;  and  too  many  cooks  have 
spoiled  the  broth.  What  we  wanted  is  not  a  dozen 
men  like  me,  but  one  like  thee,  to  take  us  all  by 
the  back  of  the  neck  and  shake  us  soundly,  and 
say,  *  Do  that,  or  die  !  " 

And  so,  after  much  talk,  the  meeting  broke  up. 
And  when  it  broke  up,  there  came  to  Hereward  in 
the  hall  a  noble-looking  man  of  his  own  age,  and 
put  his  hand  within  his,  and  said  : 

"  Do  you  not  know  me,  Hereward  Leofricsson  ?  " 

"I  know  thee  not,  good  knight,  more  pity;  but 
by  thy  dress  and  carriage,  thou  shouldest  be  a  true 
Vikingsson." 

"  I  am  Sigtryg  Ranaldsson,  now  King  of  Water- 
ford.  And  my  wife  said  to  me,  '  If  there  be  treachery 
or  faint-heartedness,  remember  this — that  Hereward 
Leofricsson  slew  the  Ogre,  and  Hannibal  of  Marazion 
likewise,  and  brought  me  safe  to  thee.  And,  there- 
fore, if  thou  provest  false  to  him,  niddering  thou  art  ; 
and  no  niddering  is  spouse  of  mine.'  " 

"Thou  art  Sigtryg  Ranaldsson?"  cried  Hereward, 
clasping  him  in  his  arms,  as  the  scenes  of  his  wild 
youth  rushed  across  his  mind.  "  Better  is  old  wine 
than  new,  and  old  friends  likewise." 

"  And  I,  and  my  five  ships,  are  thine  to  death. 
Let  who  will  go  back." 

"  They  must  go,"  said  Hereward  half-peevishly. 
"Sweyn  has  right,  and  Asbiorn  too.  The  game  is 


366  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

played  out.  Sweep  the  chessmen  off  the  board,  as 
Earl  Ulf  did  by  Canute  the  king." 

"  And  lost  his  life  thereby.  I  shall  stand  by,  and 
see  thee  play  the  last  pawn." 

"  And  lose  thy  life  in  likewise." 

"  What  matter?     I  heard  thee  sing1 — • 

"  A  bed-death,  a  priest  death, 
A  straw  death,  a  cow  death, 
Such  death  likes  not  me. 

Nor  likes  it  me  either,  Hereward  Leofricsson." 

So  the  Danes  sailed  away  :  but  Sigtryg  Ranaldsson 
and  his  five  ships  remained. 

Hereward  went  up  to  the  minster  tower;  and 
watched  the  Ouse  flashing  with  countless  oars  north- 
ward toward  Southrey  Fen.  And  when  they  were 
all  out  of  sight,  he  went  back,  and  lay  down  on  his 
bed,  and  wept— once  and  for  all.  Then  he  arose, 
and  went  down  into  the  hall  to  abbots  and  monks, 
and  earls  and  knights,  and  was  the  boldest,  cheeriest, 
wittiest  of  them  all. 

"They  say,"  quoth  he  to  Torfrida  that  night,  "that 
some  men  have  gray  heads  on  green  shoulders.  I 
have  a  gray  heart  in  a  green  body." 

"And  my  heart  is  growing  very  gray,  too,"  said 
Torfrida. 

"Certainly  not  thy  head."  And  he  played  with 
her  raven  locks. 

"That  may  come,  too;  and  too  soon." 

For,  indeed,  they  were  in  very  evil  case. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  367 

CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

HOW  THEY   FOUGHT   AT    ALDRETH. 

WHEN  William  heard  that  the  Danes  were  gone,  he 
marched  on  Ely,  as  on  an  easy  prey. 

Ivo  Taillebois  came  with  him,  hungry  after  those 
Spalding  lands,  the  rents  whereof  Hereward  had  been 
taking  for  his  men  for  now  twelve  months.  William 
de  Warrenne  was  there,  vowed  to  revenge  the  death 
of  Sir  Frederick,  his  brother.  Ralph  Guader  was 
there,  flushed  with  his  success  at  Norwich.  And  with 
them  were  all  the  Frenchmen  of  the  east,  who  had 
been  either  expelled  from  their  lands,  or  were  in  fear 
of  expulsion. 

With  them,  too,  was  a  great  army  of  mercenaries, 
ruffians  from  all  France  and  Flanders,  hired  to  fight 
for  a  certain  term,  on  the  chance  of  plunder  or  of  fiefs 
in  land.  Their  brains  were  all  aflame  with  the  tales 
of  inestimable  riches  hidden  in  Ely.  There  were  there 
the  jewels  of  all  the  monasteries  round ;  there  were 
the  treasures  of  all  the  fugitive  English  nobles  ;  there 
were  there — what  was  there  not  ?  And  they  grumbled, 
when  William  halted  them  and  hutted  them  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  began  to  feel  cautiously  the  strength  of 
the  place — which  must  be  strong,  or  Hereward  and  the 
English  would  not  have  made  it  their  camp  of  refuge. 

Perhaps  he  rode  up  to  Madingley  windmill ;  and 
saw  fifteen  miles  away,  clear  against  the  sky,  the  long 
line  of  what  seemed  naught  but  a  low  upland  park, 
with  the  minster  tower  among  the  trees  ;  and  between 
him  and  them,  a  rich  champaign  of  grass,  over  which 
it  was  easy  enough  to  march  all  the  armies  of  Europe  ; 
and  thought  Ely  an  easy  place  to  take.  But  men  told 
him  that  between  him  and  those  trees  lay  a  black 
abyss  of  mud  and  peat  and  reeds,  Haddenham  fen 
and  Smithy  fen,  with  the  deep  sullen  West  water  or 


368  HE  RE  WARD  THE   WAKE. 

"  Ald-reche"1  of  the  Ouse  winding  through  them. 
The  old  Roman  road  to  Stretham  was  sunk  and  gone 
long  since  under  the  bog,  whether  by  English  neglect, 
or  whether  (as  some  think)  by  actual  and  bodily  sink- 
ing of  the  whole  land.  The  narrowest  space  between 
dry  land  and  dry  land  was  a  full  half-mile ;  and  how 
to  cross  that  half-mile,  no  man  knew. 

What  were  the  approaches  on  the  west?  There 
were  none.  Beyond  Earith,  where  now  run  the  great 
washes  of  the  Bedford  Level,  was  a  howling  wilder- 
ness of  meres,  eas,  reed-ronds,  and  floating  alder-beds, 
through  which  only  the  fen-men  wandered,  with  leap- 
ing-pole  and  log  canoe.8 

What  in  the  east  ?  The  dry  land  neared  the  island 
on  that  side.  And  it  may  be  that  William  rowed 
round  by  Burwell  to  Fordham  and  Soham,  and 
thought  of  attempting  the  island  by  way  of  Barra- 
way ;  and  saw  beneath  him  a  labyrinth  of  islands, 
meres,  fens,  with  the  Cam,  increased  by  the  volume 
of  the  Ouse,  spreading  far  deeper  and  broader  than 
now  between  Barraway  and  Thetford-in-the-Isle  ;  and 
saw,  too,  that  a  disaster  in  that  labyrinth  might  be  a 
destruction.  3 

So  he  determined  on  the  near  and  straight  path, 
through  Long  Stanton  and  Willingham,  down  the  old 
bridle-way  from  Willingham  ploughed  field  ; — every 
village  there,  and  in  the  isle  likewise,  had  and  has 
still  its  "field,"  or  ancient  clearing  of  ploughed  land, 

1  I   f*ive  the   supposed  etymologic^  of  one   of  the   various   spellings   of 
"Alrehede,"  now  Aldreth.     A  better  is  Alre-hythe,  the  Aldershore;   a  better 
still  perhaps,   St.    Etheldreda,   or  Audrey,   herself.     St.   Audrey's  Causeway 
leads  to  the  spot;  St.  Audrey's  well  is,  or  was,  on  the  slope  above;  and  the 
name  of  the  place  may  be  simply  Audrey's  Hythe. 

2  The  "bridge  two  miles  long,"  which  the  Liber  Eliensis  says  that  William 
made  to  the  west  of  the  isle,  is  surely  only  a  traditional  exaggeration  of  his 
repairs  of  Aldreth  Causeway  to  the  south-west.     On  the  west,  the  Isle  must 
have  been  utterly  unapproachable. 

3  It  may  be  well  to  explain  to  those  who  do  not  know  the  Fens,  that  the  Ouse 
formerly  parted  at  the  Isle  of  Ely,  half  its  waters  running  eastward  by  Aldreth 
into  the  Cam,  half  wandering  northward  to  inundate  vast  morasses  to  the 
west  of  the  isle.    Through  those  morasses  (now  fertile  fields),  and  above  their 
level,  the  great  works  of  the  Bedford  Level  now  convey  the  Ouse  straight  to 
the  tide  at  Denver  sluice. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  369 

— and  then  to  try  that  terrible  half-mile,  with  the 
courage  and  wit  of  a  general  to  whom  human  lives 
were  as  those  of  the  gnats  under  the  hedge. 

So  all  his  host  camped  themselves  in  Willingham 
field,  by  the  old  earth-work  which  men  now  call 
Belsar's  Hills :  and  down  the  bridle-way  poured 
countless  men,  bearing  timber  and  faggots,  cut  from 
all  the  hills,  that  they  might  bridge  the  black  half-mile. 

They  made  a  narrow  firm  path  through  the  reeds, 
and  down  to  the  brink  of  the  Ouse,  if  brink  it  could  be 
called,  where  the  water,  rising  and  falling  a  foot  or  two 
each  tide,  covered  the  floating  peat  formanyyards, before 
it  sank  into  a  brown  depth  of  bottomless  slime.  They 
would  make  a  bottom  for  themselves  by  driving  piles. 

The  piles  would  not  hold  ;  and  they  began  to  make 
a  floating  bridge  with  long  beams,  say  the  chroniclers, 
and  blown-up  cattle-hides  to  float  them. 

Soon  they  made  a  floating-sow,  and  thrust  it  on 
before  them  as  they  worked  across  the  stream ;  for 
they  were  getting  under  shot  from  the  island. 

Meanwhile,  the  besieged  had  not  been  idle.  They 
had  thrown  up  a  turf  rampart  on  the  island  shore, 
and  "  ante-muralia  et  propugnacula," — doubtless  over- 
hanging "hoardings,"  or  scaffolds,  through  the  floor 
of  which  they  could  shower  down  missiles.1  And  so 
they  awaited  the  attack,  contenting  themselves  with 
gliding  in  and  out  of  the  reeds  in  their  canoes,  and 
annoying  the  builders  with  arrows  and  cross-bow  bolts. 

At  last  the  bridge  was  finished,  and  the  sow  safe 
across  the  Westwater ;  and  thrust  in,  as  far  as  it 
would  float,  among  the  reeds  on  the  high  tide.  They 
in  the  fort  could  touch  it  with  a  pole. 

The  English  would  have  destroyed  it  if  they  could. 
But  The  Wake  bade  them  leave  it  alone.  He  had 
watched  all  their  work,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  the 
event. 

i  Was  this  "  Hereward's  Fort."  which  was  still  shown  in  the  Fens  in  the  days 
of  Roger  of  Wendover  ? 


370  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

"The  rats  have  set  a  trap  for  themselves,"  he  said 
to  his  men  ;  "  and  we  shall  be  fools  to  break  it  up  till 
the  rats  are  safe  inside." 

So  there  the  huge  sow  lay,  black  and  silent,  show- 
ing nothing  to  the  enemy  but  a  side  of  strong  plank, 
covered  with  hide  to  prevent  its  being  burned.  It  lay 
there  for  three  hours,  and  The  Wake  let  it  lie. 

He  had  never  been  so  cheerful,  so  confident. 
"Play  the  man  this  day,  every  one  of  you  ;  and  ere 
nightfall  you  will  have  taught  the  Frenchman  once 
more  the  lesson  of  York.  He  seems  to  have  forgotten 
that.  It  is  time  to  remind  him  of  it." 

And  he  looked  to  his  bow  and  to  his  arrows,  and 
prepared  to  play  the  man  himself ;  as  was  the  fashion 
in  those  old  days,  when  a  general  proved  his  worth  by 
hitting  harder  and  more  surely  than  any  of  his  men. 

At  last  the  army  was  in  motion,  and  Willingham 
field  opposite  was  like  a  crawling  ants'  nest.  Brigade 
after  brigade  moved  down  to  the  reed  beds,  and  the 
assault  began. 

And  now  advanced  along  the  causeway,  and  along 
the  bridge,  a  dark  column  of  men,  surmounted  by 
glittering  steel ;  knights  in  complete  mail ;  footmen  in 
leather  coats  and  jerkins  ;  at  first  orderly  enough, 
each  under  the  banner  of  his  lord  :  but  more  and  more 
mingled  and  crowded,  as  each  hurried  forward,  eager 
for  his  selfish  share  of  the  inestimable  treasures  of  Ely. 
They  pushed  along  the  bridge.  The  mass  became 
more  and  more  crowded ;  men  stumbled  over  each 
other,  and  fell  off  into  the  mire  and  water,  calling 
vainly  for  help  :  but  their  comrades  hurried  on  unheed- 
ing, in  the  mad  thirst  for  spoil. 

On  they  came  in  thousands  ;  and  fresh  thousands 
streamed  out  of  the  fields,  as  if  the  whole  army 
intended  to  pour  itself  into  the  isle  at  once. 

"They  are  numberless,"  said  Torfrida,  in  a  serious 
and  astonished  voice,  as  she  stood  by  Hereward's 
side. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  371 

"  Would  they  were  !  "  said  Hereward.  "  Let  them 
come  on,  thick  and  threefold.  The  more  their  numbers, 
the  fatter  will  the  fish  below  be,  before  to-morrow 
morning".  Look  there,  already  ! " 

And  already  the  bridge  was  swaying1,  and  sinking 
beneath  their  weight.  The  men,  in  places,  were  ankle 
deep  in  water.  They  rushed  on  all  the  more  eagerly  ; 
filled  the  sow,  and  swarmed  up  to  its  roof. 

Then,  what  with  its  own  weight,  what  with  the 
weight  of  the  laden  bridge  which  dragged  upon  it 
from  behind,  the  huge  sow  began  to  tilt  backwards, 
and  slide  down  the  slimy  bank. 

The  men  on  the  top  tried  vainly  to  keep  their 
footing ;  to  hurl  grapnels  into  the  rampart ;  to  shoot 
off  their  quarrels  and  arrows. 

"You  must  be  quick,  Frenchmen,"  shouted 
Hereward,  in  derision,  "if  you  mean  to  come  on 
board  here." 

The  French  knew  that  well :  and  as  Hereward 
spoke,  two  panels  in  the  front  of  the  sow  creaked  on 
their  hinges,  and  dropped  landward,  forming  two 
draw-bridges,  over  which  reeled  to  the  attack  a 
close  body  of  knights,  mingled  with  soldiers  bearing 
scaling  ladders. 

They  recoiled.  Between  the  ends  of  the  draw- 
bridges and  the  foot  of  the  rampart  was  some  two 
fathoms'  breadth  of  black  ooze.  The  catastrophe 
which  The  Wake  had  foreseen  was  come,  and  a 
shout  of  derision  arose  from  the  unseen  defenders 
above. 

"Come  on,  leap  it  like  men  !  Send  back  for  your 
horses,  knights,  and  ride  them  at  it  like  bold 
huntsmen  ! " 

The  front  rank  could  not  but  rush  on :  for  the 
pressure  behind  forced  them  forward,  whether  they 
would  or  not.  In  a  moment  they  were  wallowing 
waist  deep ;  trampled  on ;  disappearing  under  their 
struggling-  comrades,  who  disappeared  in  their  turn. 


372  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"  Look,  Torfrida !  If  they  plant  their  scaling 
ladders,  it  will  be  on  a  foundation  of  their  comrades' 
corpses." 

Torfrida  gave  one  glance  through  the  openings 
of  the  hoarding,  upon  the  writhing  mass  below,  and 
turned  away  in  horror.  The  men  were  not  so 
merciful.  Down  between  the  hoarding-beams  rained 
stones,  javelins,  arrows,  increasing  the  agony  and 
death.  The  scaling  ladders  would  not  stand  in  the 
mire ;  if  they  had  stood  a  moment,  the  struggles 
of  the  dying  would  have  thrown  them  down.  And 
still  fresh  victims  pressed  on  from  behind,  shouting 
"Dex  Aie!  On  to  the  gold  of  Ely!"  And  still 
the  sow,  under  the  weight,  slipped  further  and 
further  back  into  the  stream,  and  the  foul  gulf 
widened  between  besiegers  and  besieged. 

At  last  one  scaling  ladder  was  planted  upon  the 
bodies  of  the  dead,  and  hooked  firmly  on  the  gun- 
wale of  the  hoarding.  Ere  it  could  be  hurled  off 
again  by  the  English,  it  was  so  crowded  with  men 
that  even  Hereward's  strength  was  insufficient  to 
lift  it  off.  He  stood  at  the  top,  ready  to  hew  down 
the  first  comer ;  and  he  hewed  him  down. 

But  the  French  were  not  to  be  daunted.  Man 
after  man  dropped  dead  from  the  ladder  top, — man 
after  man  took  his  place  ;  sometimes  scrambling  over 
each  other's  backs. 

The  English,  even  in  the  insolence  of  victory, 
cheered  them  with  honest  admiration.  "You  are 
fellows  worth  fighting,  you  French  !  " 

"So  we  are,"  shouted  a  knight,  the  first  and  last 
who  crossed  that  parapet ;  for,  thrusting  Hereward 
back  with  a  blow  of  his  sword-hilt,  he  staggered 
past  him  over  the  hoarding,  and  fell  on  his  knees. 

A  dozen  men  were  upon  him :  but  he  was  up 
again  and  shouting : 

"  To  me,  men-at-arms  !  A  Deda  !  A  Deda  !  "  But 
no  man  answered. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  373 

"Yield  I "  quoth  Hereward. 

Sir  Deda  answered  by  a  blow  on  Hereward's 
helmet,  which  felled  The  Wake  to  his  knees,  and 
broke  the  sword  into  twenty  splinters. 

"  Well  hit !  "  said  Hereward,  as  he  rose.  "  Don't 
touch  him,  men !  this  is  my  quarrel  now.  Yield, 
sir !  you  have  done  enough  for  your  honour.  It 
is  madness  to  throw  away  your  life." 

The  knight  looked  round  on  the  fierce  ring  of  faces, 
in  the  midst  of  which  he  stood  alone. 

"  To  none  but  The  Wake." 

"  The  Wake  am  I." 

"Ah,"  said  the  knight,  "had  I  but  hit  a  little 
harder !  " 

"  You  would  have  broke  your  sword  into  more 
splinters.  My  armour  is  enchanted.  So  yield  like 
a  reasonable  and  valiant  man." 

' '  What  care  I  ? "  said  the  knight,  stepping  on 
to  the  earth-work,  and  sitting  down  quietly.  "I 
vowed  to  St.  Mary  and  King  William  that  into  Ely 
I  would  get  this  day ;  and  in  Ely  I  am ;  so  I  have 
done  my  work." 

"And  now  you  shall  taste — as  such  a  gallant 
knight  deserves — the  hospitality  of  Ely." 

It  was  Torfrida  who  spoke. 

"My  husband's  prisoners  are  mine;  and  I,  when 
I  find  them  such  gallant  knights  as  you  are,  have 
no  lighter  chains  for  them  than  that  which  a  lady's 
bower  can  afford." 

Sir  Deda  was  going  to  make  an  equally  courteous 
answer,  when  over  and  above  the  shouts  and  curses 
of  the  combatants  rose  a  yell  so  keen,  so  dreadful, 
as  made  all  hurry  forward  to  the  rampart. 

That  which  The  Wake  had  foreseen  was  come 
at  last.  The  bridge,  strained  more  and  more  by 
its  living  burden,  and  by  the  falling  tide,  had  parted, — 
not  at  the  Ely  end,  where  the  sliding  of  the  sow 
took  off  the  pressure, — but  at  the  end  nearest  the 


374  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

camp.  One  sideway  roll  it  gave,  and  then,  turning 
over,  eng-ulfed  in  that  foul  stream  the  flower  of 
Norman  chivalry  ;  leaving  a  line — a  full  quarter  of 
a  mile  in  length — of  wretches  drowning  in  the  dark 
water,  or,  more  hideous  still,  in  the  bottomless  slime 
of  peat  and  mud. 

Thousands  are  said  to  have  perished.  Their 
armour  and  weapons  were  found  at  times,  by  delvers 
and  dykers,  for  centuries  after  ;  are  found  at  times 
unto  this  day,  beneath  the  rich  drained  corn-fields 
which  now  fill  up  that  black  half-mile ;  or  in  the 
bed  of  the  narrow  brook  to  which  the  Westwater, 
robbed  of  its  streams  by  the  Bedford  Level,  has 
dwindled  down  at  last. 

William,  they  say,  struck  his  tents  and  departed 
forthwith,  "groaning  from  deep  grief  of  heart." 
Eastward  he  went,  and  encamped  the  remains  of 
his  army  at  Brandon,  where  he  seems  to  have  begun 
that  castle,  the  ruins  of  which  still  exist  in  Weeting 
Park  hard  by.  He  put  a  line  of  sentinels  along  the 
Rech-dyke,  which  men  now  call  the  Devil's  Ditch  ; 
and  did  his  best  to  blockade  the  isle,  as  he  could 
not  storm  it.  And  so  ended  the  first  battle  of 
Aldreth. 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

HOW  SIR  DEDA  BROUGHT  NEWS  FROM  ELY. 

A  MONTH  after  the  fig'ht,  there  came  into  the  camp 
at  Brandon,  riding  on  an  ambling  pad,  himself  fat 
and  well-liking,  none  other  than  Sir  Deda. 

Boisterously  he  was  received,  as  one  alive  from 
the  dead  ;  and  questioned  as  to  his  adventures  and 
sufferings. 

"Adventures  I  have  had,  and  strange  ones;  but 
as  for  sufferings — instead  of  fetter-galls,  I  bring  back, 
as  you  see,  a  new  suit  of  clothes  ;  instead  of  an 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  375 

empty  and  starved  stomach,  a  surfeit  from  good 
victuals  and  good  liquor ;  and  whereas  I  went  into 
Ely  on  foot,  I  came  out  on  a  fast  hackney." 

So  into  William's  tent  he  went ;  and  there  he 
told  his  tale. 

"So,  Deda,  my  friend?"  quoth  the  Duke  in  high 
good  humour,  for  he  loved  Deda.  "  You  seem  to 
have  been  in  good  company  ?  " 

"Never  in  better,  sire,  save  in  your  presence.  Of 
the  earls  and  knights  in  Ely,  all  I  can  say  is,  God's 
pity  that  they  are  rebels ;  for  more  gallant  and 
courteous  knights  or  more  perfect  warriors  never 
saw  I  neither  in  Normandy  nor  at  Constantinople, 
among  the  Varangers  themselves." 

"  Eh  ?  and  what  are  the  names  of  these  gallants, 
for  you  have  used  your  eyes  and  ears,  of  course  ?  " 

"Edwin  and  Morcar,  the  earls — two  fine  young- 
lads." 

"  I  know  it.  Go  on,"  and  a  shade  passed  over 
William's  brow  as  he  thought  of  his  own  falsehood, 
and  of  his  fair  daughter,  weeping  in  vain  for  the  fair 
bridegroom  whom  he  had  promised  to  her, 

"  Siward  Barn,  as  they  call  him,  the  boy  Orgar, 
and  Thurkil  Barn.  Those  are  the  knights.  Egelwin, 
Bishop  of  Durham,  is  there  too ;  and  besides  them 
all,  and  above  them  all,  Hereward  The  Wake.  The 
like  of  that  knight  I  may  have  seen.  His  better  saw 
I  never." 

"Sir  fool!'  said  Earl  Warrenne,  who  had  not 
yet — small  blame  to  him — forgotten  his  brother's 
death.  "They  have  soused  thy  brains  with  their 
muddy  ale,  till  thou  knowest  not  friend  from  foe. 
What,  hast  thou  to  come  hither  praising  up  to  the 
king's  majesty  such  an  outlawed  villain  as  that, 
with  whom  no  honest  knight  would  keep  company  ?  " 

"  If  you,  Earl  Warrenne,  ever  found  Deda  drunk 
or  lying,  it  is  more  than  the  king  here  has  done." 

"  Let  him  speak,   Earl,"  said  William.     "  I   have 


376  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

not  an  honester  man   in  my  camp  ;    and  he  speaks 
for  my  information,  not  for  yours." 

"Then  for  yours  will  I  speak,  Sir  King.  These 
men  treated  me  knightly,  and  sent^me  away  without 
ransom." 

"They  had  an  eye  to  their  own  profit,  it  seems," 
grumbled  the  Earl. 

"  But  force  me  they  did  to  swear  on  the  holy 
Gospels  that  I  should  tell  your  majesty  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  And  I  keep 
my  oath,"  quoth  Deda. 

"Go  on,  then,  without  fear  or  favour.     Are  there 
any  other  men  of  note  in  the  island  ?  " 
No." 

'  Are  they  in  want  of  provisions  ?  " 
'  Look  how  they  have  fattened  me." 
'  What  do  they  complain  of?  " 

'  I  will  tell  you,  Sir  King.  The  monks,  like  many 
more,  took  fright  at  the  coming  over  of  our  French 
men  of  God  to  set  right  all  their  filthy  barbarous 
ways  ;  and  that  is  why  they  threw  Ely  open  to  the 
rebels." 

"  I  will  be  even  with  the  sots,"  quoth  William. 

"  However  they  think  that  danger  blown  over 
just  now ;  for  they  have  a  story  among  them, 
which,  as  my  lord  the  king  never  heard  before,  he 
may  as  well  hear  now." 

"Eh?" 

"  How  your  majesty  should  have  sent  across  the 
sea  a  whole  shipload  of  French  monks." 

"That  have  I,  and  will  more,  till  I  reduce  these 
swine  into  something  like  obedience  to  his  Holiness 
of  Rome." 

"Ah,  but  your  majesty  has  not  heard  how  one 
Bruman,  a  valiant  English  knight,  was  sailing  on  the 
sea  and  caught  those  monks.  Whereon  he  tied  a 
great  sack  to  the  ship's  head,  and  cut  the  bottom  out, 
and  made  every  one  of  those  monks  get  into  that  sack 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  377 

and  so  fall  through  into  the  sea ;  whereby  he  rid  the 
monks  of  Ely  of  their  rivals." 

"Pish!  why  tell  me  such  an  old  wives'  fable, 
knight  ?  " 

"Because  the  monks  believe  that  old  wives'  fable, 
and  are  stout-hearted  and  stiff-necked  accordingly." 

"The  blood  of  martyrs  is  the  seed  of  the  Church," 
said  William's  chaplain,  a  pupil  and  friend  of  Lan- 
franc ;  "and  if  these  men  of  Belial  drowned  every 
man  of  God  in  Normandy,  ten  would  spring  up  in 
their  places  to  convert  this  benighted  and  besotted 
land  of  Simonites  and  Balaamites,  whose  priests,  like 
the  brutes  which  perish,  scruple  not  to  defile  them- 
selves, and  the  service  of  the  altar,  with  things  which 
they  impudently  call  their  wives." 

"We  know  that,  good  chaplain,"  quoth  William 
impatiently.  He  had  enough  of  that  language  from 
Lanfranc  himself ;  and,  moreover,  was  thinking  more 
of  the  Isle  of  Ely,  than  of  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy. 

"Well,  Sir  Deda?" 

"  So  they  have  got  together  all  their  kin ;  for 
among  these  monks  every  one  is  kin  to  a  thane,  or 
knight,  or  even  an  earl :  and  there  they  are,  brother 
by  brother,  cousin  by  cousin,  knee  to  knee,  and  back 
to  back,  like  a  pack  of  wolves,  and  that  in  a  hold 
which  you  will  not  enter  yet  awhile." 

"  Does  my  friend  Deda  doubt  his  Duke's  skill  at 
last  ?  " 

"  Sir  Duke — Sir  King  I  mean  now,  for  king  you  are 
and  deserve  to  be — I  know  what  you  can  do.  I 
remember  how  we  took  England  at  one  blow  on 
Senlac  field  :  but  see  you  here,  Sir  King,  how  will 
you  take  an  island  with  four  such  saints  to  guard 
it  as  St.  Etheldreda,  St.  Withberga,  St.  Sexberga, 
and  St.  Ermenilda  ?  " 

"  By  promising  the  holy  ladies,"  said  William,  with 
a  smile,  "to  honour  them  better  than  ever  did  yet 
an  Ensflish  swine." 


378  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"  Amen  :  but  again,  how  will  you  take  an  island 
where  four  kings  such  as  you  (if  the  world  would  hold 
four  such  at  once)  could  not  stop  one  churl  from 
ploughing  the  land,  or  one  birdcatcher  from  setting 
lime-twigs  ?  "  * 

"And  what  if  I  cannot  stop  the  birdcatchers ? 
Do  they  expect  to  lime  Frenchmen  as  easily  as 
sparrows  ?  " 

"Sparrows!  It  is  not  sparrows  that  I  have  been 
fattening  on  this  last  month.  I  tell  you,  sire,  I  have 
seen  wild  fowl  alone  in  that  island  enough  to  feed 
them  all  the  year  round.  I  was  there  in  the  moulting 
time,  and  saw  them  take — one  day  one  hundred,  one 
two  hundred  ;  and  once,  as  I  am  a  belted  knight,  a 
thousand  duck  out  of  one  single  mere.2  There  is  a 
wood  there,  with  herons  sprawling  about  the  tree- 
tops — I  did  not  think  there  were  so  many  in  the 
world  ;  otters  and  weasels,  ermines  and  pole-cats,  for 
fur  robes ;  and  fish  for  Lent  and  Fridays  in  every 
puddle  and  leat — pike  and  perch,  roach  and  eels, 
on  every  old  wife's  table ;  while  the  knights  think 
scorn  of  anything  worse  than  smelt  and  burbot. 3 

"  Splendeur  Dex  ! "  quoth  William,  who,  Norman- 
like,  did  not  dislike  a  good  dinner.  "  I  must  keep 
Lent  in  Ely  before  I  die." 

"Then  you  had  best  make  peace  with  the  burbot- 
eating  knights,  my  lord." 

"  But  have  they  flesh-meat  ?  " 

"The  island  is  half  of  it  a  garden — richer  land,  they 
say,  is  none  in  these  realms,  and  I  believe  it :  but, 

1  I  have  followed  Deda's  account  of  Ely  and  its  folk,  as  given  both  in  the 
Peterborough    MSS.    and    in    the   Liber   Eliensis,    almost    word    for    word 
throughout. 

2  Ficedulze  (beccaficos,  by  which  the  good  monk  means  wheatears  and  such 
small  birds)  coots,  divers,  "  watercrows,'  cranes,  and  ducks. 

* "  Innumerable  eels,  great  water-wolves  and  pickerel,  perches,  roaches, 
burbots,  and  muraenas,  which  we  call  water-serpents."  (These  last  seem  to  be 
mythical,  unless  the  silurus  glanis  still  lingered,  as  it  may  have  done,  in  the 
waters  of  the  Ouse.)  "Sometimes  also  isicii  (smelts,  I  presume,  as  they  are 
still  abundant  in  the  Ouse)  and  the  royal  fish  rumbus "  (turbotl :  surely  a 
misnomer  for  the  sturgreon. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  379 

besides  that,  there  is  a  deer-park  there  with  a 
thousand  head  in  it,  red  and  fallow,  beside  hares ; 
and  plenty  of  swine  and  goats  n  in  woods,  and  sheep, 
and  cattle  :  and  if  they  fail  there  are  plenty  more  to 
be  got,  they  know  where." 

"  They  know  where  ?  Do  you,  Sir  Knight  ?  "  asked 
William  keenly. 

"  Out  of  every  little  island  in  their  fens,  for  forty 
miles  on  end.  There  are  the  herds  fattening  them- 
selves on  the  richest  pastures  in  the  land,  and  no  man 
needing  to  herd  them,  for  they  are  all  safe  among 
dykes  and  meres." 

"  I  will  make  my  boats  sweep  their  fens  clear  of 
every  head " 

"Take  care,  my  Lord  King,  lest  never  a  boat  come 
back  from  that  errand.  With  their  narrow  flat- 
bottomed  punts,  cut  out  of  a  single  log,  and  their 
leaping-poles,  wherewith  they  fly  over  dykes  of  thirty 
feet  in  width — they  can  ambuscade  in  those  reed- 
beds  and  alder-beds,  kill  whom  they  will,  and  then 
flee  away  through  the  marsh,  like  so  many  horse- 
flies. And  if  not,  one  trick  have  they  left,  which  they 
never  try  save  when  driven  into  a  corner :  but  from 
that  may  all  saints  save  us  1 " 

"What  then?" 

"  Firing  the  reeds." 

"And  destroying  their  own  cover?" 

"  True  :  therefore  they  will  only  do  it  in  despair." 

"Then  to  despair  will  I  drive  them,  and  try  their 
worst.  So  these  monks  are  as  stout  rebels  as  the 
earls  ?  " 

"  I  only  say  what  I  saw.  At  the  hall-table  there 
dined  each  day  maybe  some  fifty  belted  knights,  with 
every  one  a  monk  next  to  him  ;  and  at  the  high  table 
the  abbot,  and  the  earls,  and  Hereward  and  his  lady. 
And  behind  each  knight,  and  each  monk  likewise, 

>  That  the  goat  as  well  as  the  stag  was  common  in  the  fens,  the  horns  found 
in  peat  and  gravel  testify. 


380  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

hung  against  the  wall,  lance  and  shield,  helmet  and 
hauberk,  sword  and  axe." 

"  To  mouk  as  well  as  knight?  " 

"  As  I  am  a  knight  myself;  and  were  as  well  used, 
too,  for  aught  I  saw,  The  monks  took  turns  with 
the  knights  as  sentries,  and  as  foragers  likewise ;  and 
the  knights  themselves  told  me  openly,  the  monks 
were  as  good  men  as  they." 

"  As  wicked,  you  mean,"  groaned  the  chaplain. 
"  Oh,  accurse'd  and  bloodthirsty  race,  why  does  not 
the  earth  open  and  swallow  you,  with  Korah,  Dathan, 
and  Abiram  ?  " 

"They  would  not  care,"  quoth  Deda.  "They  are 
born  and  bred  in  the  bottomless  pit  already.  They 
would  jump  over,  or  flounder  out,  as  they  do  to  their 
own  bogs  every  day." 

"  You  speak  irreverently,  my  friend,"  quoth  William. 

"  Ask  those  who  are  in  camp,  and  not  me.  As  for 
whither  they  went,  or  how,  the  English  were  not 
likely  to  tell  me.  All  that  I  know  is,  that  I  saw  fresh 
cattle  come  in  every  few  days,  and  fresh  farms  burnt, 
too,  on  the  Norfolk  side.  There  were  farms  burning 
only  last  night,  between  here  and  Cambridge.  Ask  your 
sentinels  on  the  Rech-dyke  how  that  came  ahout !  "  J 

"  I  can  answer  that,"  quoth  a  voice  from  the  other 
end  of  the  tent.  "  I  was  on  the  Rech-dyke  last  night, 
close  down  to  the  fen — worse  luck  and  shame  for  me." 

"  Answer,  then  ! "  quoth  William,  with  one  of  his 
fiercest  oaths,  glad  to  have  some  one  on  whom  he 
could  turn  his  rage  and  disappointment. 

"There  came  seven  men  in  a  boat  up  from  Ely 
yester-even,  and  five  of  them  were  monks  ;  they  came 
up  from  Burwell  fen,  and  plundered  and  burnt  Burwcll 
to  wo." 

1  See  §  23  of  the  De  Gestis  ffereiKardi,  presumed  to  be  by  Richard  of  Ely, 
"And  while  he  had  hardly  finished  his  speech,"  etc.  Those  who  love  to 
investigate  the  growth  of  myths,  may  profitably  amuse  themselves  by  com- 
paring: that  account  with  §  106  of  the  Liber  Eliensis.  The  omissions  will  be 
as  instructive  as  the  insertions. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  381 

"  And  where  were  all  you  mighty  men  of  war  ?  " 

"  Ten  of  ours  ran  down  to  stop  them,  with  Richard, 
Viscount  Osbert's  nephew,  at  their  head.  The  villains 
came  at  a  foot's  pace  up  the  Rech-dyke,  and  attacked 
them  at  lance-point ;  and  before  we  could  get  to 
them " 

"Thy  men  had  run,  of  course." 

"They  were  every  one  dead  or  wounded,  save 
Richard  ;  and  he  was  fighting1  single-handed  with  an 
Englishman,  while  the  other  six  stood  around,  and 
looked  on." 

"  Then  they  fought  fairly?  "  said  William. 

"As  fairly,  to  do  them  justice,  as  if  they  had  been 
Frenchmen,  and  not  English  churls.  As  we  came 
down  along  the  dyke,  a  little  man  of  them  steps  be- 
tween the  two,  and  strikes  up  their  swords  as  if  they 
had  been  two  reeds.  '  Come  ! '  cries  he,  '  enough  of 
this.  You  are  two  stout  knights  well  matched,  and 
you  can  fight  out  this  any  other  day  ; '  and  away  he 
and  his  men  go  down  the  dyke  end  to  the  water." 

"  Leaving  Richard  safe  ?  " 

"Wounded  a  little — but  safe  enough." 

"And  then?" 

"  We  followed  them  to  the  boat  as  hard  as  we  could  ; 
killed  one  of  their  boatmen  with  a  javelin,  and  caught 
another." 

"  Knightly  done ! "  and  William  swore  an  awful 
oath,  "and  worthy  of  valiant  Frenchmen.  These 
English  set  you  the  example  of  chivalry  by  letting 
your  comrade  fight  his  own  battle  fairly,  instead  of 
setting  on  him  all  together ;  and  you  repay  them  by 
hunting  them  down  with  darts,  because  you  dare  not 
go  within  sword's  stroke  of  better  men  than  yourselves. 
Go.  I  am  ashamed  of  you.  No,  stay.  Where  is 
your  prisoner?  For,  Splendeur  Dex,  I  will  send  him 
back  safe  and  sound  in  return  for  Deda,  to  tell  the 
knights  of  Ely  that  if  they  know  so  well  the  courtesies 
of  war,  William  of  Rouen  does  too." 


382  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

"The  prisoner,  sire,"  quoth  the  knight,  trembling 
"is — is " 

"You  have  not  murdered  him?" 

"Heaven  forbid!    but " 

"He  broke  his  bonds  and  escaped?" 

"Gnawed  them  through,  sire,  as  we  supposed,  anc 
escaped  through  the  mire  in  the  dark,  after  the  fashion 
of  these  accursed  frogs  of  Girvians." 

"But  did  he  tell  you  nought  ere  he  bade  you  good- 
morning?" 

"He  told  us  the  names  of  all  the  seven.  He  that 
beat  down  the  swords  was  Hereward  himself." 

"I  thought  as  much.  When  shall  I  have  that 
fellow  at  my  side  ?  " 

"  He  that  fought  Richard  was  one  Wenoch." 

"I  have  heard  of  him." 

"He  that  we  took  was  Azer  the  Hardy,  a  monk  of 
Nicole — Licole.  And  the  rest  were  Turstan  the 
Younger;  one  Siward,  another  monk;  Leofric  the 
Deacon,  Hereward's  minstrel;  and  Boter,  the  traitor 
monk  of  St.  Edmunds.' 

"And  if  I  catch  them,"  quoth  William,  "I  will 
make  an  abbot  of  every  one  of  them." 

"Sire?"  quoth  the  chaplain,  in  a  deprecating  tone. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

HOW   HEREWARD   PLAYED   THE   POTTER;     AND   HOW   HE 
CHEATED    THE    KING. 

THEY  of  Ely  were  now  much  straitened,  being  shut 
in  both  by  land  and  water;  and  what  was  to  be  done, 
either  by  themselves  or  by  the  king,  they  knew  not. 
Would  William  simply  starve  them;  or  at  least  inflict 
on  them  so  perpetual  a  Lent — for  of  fish  there  could 
be  no  lack,  even  if  they  ate  or  drove  away  all  the 
fowl — as  would  tame  down  their  proud  spirits;  which 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  383 

a  diet  of  fish  and  vegetables,  from  some  ludicrous 
theory  of  monastic  physicians,  was  supposed  to  do  ?  * 
Or  was  he  gathering  vast  armies,  from  they  knew 
not  whence,  to  try,  once  and  for  all,  another  assault 
on  the  island — it  might  be  from  several  points  at 
once  ? 

They  must  send  out  a  spy,  and  find  out  news  from 
the  outer  world,  if  news  were  to  be  gotten.  But  who 
would  go? 

So  asked  the  bishop,  and  the  abbot,  and  the  earls, 
in  council  in  the  abbot's  lodging. 

Torfrida  was  among  them.  She  was  always 
among  them  now.  She  was  their  Alruna-wife,  their 
wise  woman,  whose  counsels  all  received  as  more 
than  human. 

"  I  will  go,"  said  she,  rising  up  like  a  goddess  on 
Olympus.  "  I  will  cut  off  my  hair,  and  put  on  boy's 
clothes,  and  smirch  myself  brown  with  walnut-leaves  ; 
and  I  will  go.  I  can  talk  their  French  tongue.  I 
know  their  French  ways  ;  and  as  for  a  story  to  cover 
my  journey  and  my  doings,  trust  a  woman's  wit  to 
invent  that." 

They  looked  at  her,  with  delight  in  her  courage,  but 
with  doubt. 

"  If  William's  French  grooms  got  hold  of  you, 
Torfrida,  it  would  not  be  a  little  walnut-brown  which 
would  hide  you,"  said  Hereward.  "  But  it  is  like  you 
to  offer, — worthy  of  you,  who  have  no  peer." 

"That  she  has  not,"  quoth  churchmen  and  soldiers 
alike. 

"  Nevertheless — to  send  you  would  be  to  send  The 
Wake's  praying  half ;  and  that  would  be  bad  religion. 
The  Wake's  fighting  half  is  going,  while  you  pray 
here  as  well  as  watch." 

"Uncle,  uncle!"  said  the  young  earls,  "send 
Winter,  Gery,  Leofwin  Prat,  any  of  your  good  men : 

>  The  Cornish — the  stoutest,  tallest,  and  most  prolific  race  of  the  South — Ib* 
on  hardly  anything  else  but  fish  and  vegetables. 


384  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

but  not  yourself.     If  we  lose  you,  we  lose  our  head 
and  our  king." 

And  all  begged  Hereward  to  let  any  man  go,  rather 
than  himself. 

"  I  am  going,  lords  and  knights  ;  and  what 
Hereward  says  he  does.  It  is  one  day  to  Brandon. 
It  may  be  two  days  back  ;  for  if  I  miscarry — as  I 
most  likely  shall — I  must  come  home  round  about. 
On  the  fourth  day,  you  shall  hear  of  me  or  from  me. 
Come  with  me,  Torfrida." 

And  he  strode  out. 

He  cropped  his  golden  locks,  he  cropped  his  golden 
beard  ;  and  Torfrida  wept,  as  she  cropped  them,  half 
with  fear  for  him,  half  for  sorrow  over  his  shorn 
glories. 

"  I  am  no  Samson,  my  lady  ;  my  strength  lieth  not 
in  my  locks.  Now  for  some  rascal's  clothes — as  little 
dirty  as  you  can  get  me,  for  fear  of  company." 

And  Hereward  put  on  filthy  garments  ;  and  taking 
mare  Swallow  with  him,  got  into  a  barge  and  went 
across  the  river  to  Soham. 

He  could  not  go  down  the  Great  Ouse,  and  up 
the  Little  Ouse,  which  was  his  easiest  way,  for  the 
French  held  all  the  river  below  the  isle  ;  and,  beside, 
to  have  come  straight  from  Ely  might  cause  suspicion. 
So  he  went  down  to  Fordham,  and  crossed  the  Lark 
at  Mildenhall  ;  and  just  before  he  got  to  Mildenhall, 
he  met  a  potter  carrying  pots  upon  a  pony. 

"Halt,  my  stout  churl,"  quoth  he,   "and  put  thy  i 
pots  on  my  mare's  back." 

"  The  man  who  wants  them  must  fight  for  them," 
quoth  that  stout  churl,  raising  a  heavy  staff. 

"Then  here  is  he  that  will,"  quoth  Hereward  ;  and, 
jumping  off  his  mare,  he  twisted  the  staff  out  of  the 
potter's  hands,  and  knocked  him  down  therewith. 

"That  will  teach  thee  to  know  an  Englishman  when 
thou  seest  him." 

"  I  have  met  my  master,"  quoth  the  churl,  rubbing 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE  .  385 

his  head.  "But  dog  does  not  eat  dog;  and  it  is  hard 
to  be  robbed  by  an  Englishman,  after  being  tabbed 
a  dozen  times  by  the  French." 

"I  will  not  rob  thee.  There  is  a  silver  penny  for 
thy  pots  and  thy  coat — for  that  I  must  have  likewise. 
And  if  thou  tellest  to  mortal  man  aught  about  this, 
I  will  find  those  who  will  cut  thee  up  for  dogs'  meat; 
but  if  not,  then  turn  thy  horse's  head  and  ride  back  to 
Ely,  if  thou  canst  cross  the  water,  and  say  what  has 
befallen  thee;  and  thou  wilt  find  there  an  abbot  who 
will  give  thee  another  penny  for  thy  news." 

So  Hereward  took  the  pots,  and  the  potter's  clay- 
greased  coat,  and  went  on  through  Mildenhall,  "cry- 
ing," saith  the  chronicler,  "after  the  manner  of 
potters,  in  the  English  tongue,  '  Pots  !  pots !  good 
pots  and  pans  ! ' ' 

But  when  he  got  through  Mildenhall,  and  well  into 
the  rabbit-warrens,  he  gave  mare  Swallow  a  kick,  and 
went  over  the  heath  so  fast  northward,  that  his  pots 
danced  such  a  dance  as  broke  half  of  them  before  he 
got  to  Brandon. 

"Never  mind,"  quoth  he,  "they  will  think  that 
I  have  sold  them.  And  when  he  neared  Brandon 
he  pulled  up,  sorted  his  pots,  kept  the  whole  ones, 
threw  the  shreds  at  the  rabbits,  and  walked  on  into 
Brandon  solemnly,  leading  the  mare,  and  crying 
"Pots!" 

So  "semper  marcida  et  deformis  aspectu" — lean 
and  ill-looking — was  that  famous  mare,  says  the 
chronicler,  that  no  one  would  suspect  her  splendid 
powers,  or  take  her  for  anything  but  a  potter's  nag, 
when  she  was  caparisoned  in  proper  character.  Here- 
ward  felt  thoroughly  at  home  in  his  part;  as  able  to 
play  the  Englishman  which  he  was  by  rearing,  as 
the  Frenchman  which  he  was  by  education.  He  was 
full  of  heart  and  happy.  He  enjoyed  the  keen  fresh 
air  of  the  warrens;  he  enjoyed  the  ramble  out  of  the 
isle,  in  which  he  had  been  cooped  up  so  long;  he 
H.W  N 


386  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

enjoyed  the  jest  of  the  thing — disguise,  stratagem, 
adventure,  danger.  And  so  did  the  English,  who 
adored  him.  None  of  The  Wake's  crafty  deeds  is  told 
so  carefully  and  lovingly;  and  none,  doubt  it  not,  was 
so  often  sung  in  after  years  by  farm-house  hearths,  or 
in  the  outlaw's  lodge,  as  this.  Robin  Hood  himself 
may  have  trolled  out  many  a  time,  in  doggerel  strain, 
how  Hereward  played  the  potter. 

And  he  came  to  Brandon,  to  the  "King's  court," 
from  which  William  could  command  the  streams  of 
Wissey  and  Little  Ouse,  with  all  their  fens;  and  saw 
with  a  curse  the  new  buildings  of  Weeting  Castle — 
like  the  rest,  of  which  Sir  F.  Palgrave  eloquently  says 
— "  New  and  strong,  and  cruel  in  their  strength — how 
the  Englishman  must  have  loathed  the  damp  smell 
of  the  fresh  mortar,  and  the  sight  of  the  heaps  of 
rubble,  and  the  chippings  of  the  stone,  and  the  blurring 
of  the  lime  upon  the  green  sward;  and  how  hopeless 
he  must  have  felt  when  the  great  gates  opened,  and 
the  wains  were  drawn  in,  heavily  laden  with  the  salted 
beeves,  and  the  sacks  of  corn  and  meal  furnished  by 
the  Royal  demesnes,  the  manors  which  had  belonged 
to  Edward  the  Confessor,  now  the  spoil  of  the 
stranger :  and  when  he  looked  into  the  Castle  court, 
thronged  by  the  soldiers  in  bright  mail,  and  heard  the 
carpenters  working  upon  the  ordnance, — every  blow 
and  stroke,  even  of  the  hammer  or  mallet,  speaking 
the  language  of  defiance." 

These  things  The  Wake  saw :  and  felt,  like  others, 
hopeless  for  the  moment.  And  there  rang  in  his  ears 
his  own  message  to  William.  "  When  thou  art  king 
of  all  England,  I  will  put  my  hands  between  thine, 
and  be  thy  man." 

"  He  is  not  king  of  all  England  yet !  •"  thought  he 
again;  and  drew  himself  up  so  proudly,  that  one 
passing  by  jeered  him — 

"  There  goes  a  bold  swaggerer  enough,  to  be  selling 
pots  abroad."  The  Wake  slouched  his  shoulders;  and 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 


387 


looked  as  mean  a  churl  as  ever.  Next  he  cast  about 
for  a  night's  lodging,  for  it  was  dark. 

Outside  the  town  was  a  wretched  cabin  of  mud  and 
turf — such  a  one  as  Irish  folk  live  in  to  this  day  ;  and 
Hereward  said  to  himself,  "  This  is  bad  enough  to  be 
good  enough  for  me." 

So  he  knocked  at  the  door  ;  and  knocked  till  it  was 
opened,  and  a  hideous  old  crone  put  out  her  head. 

"  Who  wants  to  see  me  at  this  time  of  night  ?  " 

"  Any  one  would,  who  had  heard  how  beautiful  you 
are.  Do  you  want  any  pots  ?  ' 

"  Pots?  What  have  I  to  do  with  pots,  thou  saucy 
fellow  ?  I  thought  it  was  some  one  wanting  a  charm." 
And  she  shut  the  door. 

"A  charm  ?  "  thought  Hereward.  "  Maybe  she  can 
tell  me  news,  if  she  be  a  witch.  They  are  shrewd  souls, 
these  witches,  and  know  more  than  they  tell.  And  if 
I  can  get  any  news,  I  care  not  if  Satan  brings  it  in 
person." 

So  he  knocked  again,  till  the  old  woman  looked 
out  once  more,  and  bade  him  angrily  be  off. 

"  But  I  am  belated  here,  good  dame,  and  afraid  ot 
the  French.  And  I  will  give  thee  the  best  bit  of  clay 
on  my  mare's  back — pot — pan — panshin — crock — jug, 
or  what  thou  wilt,  for  a  night's  lodging." 

"  Have  you  any  little  jars — jars  no  longer  than  my 
hand  ?  "  asked  she  ;  for  she  used  them  in  her  trade,  and 
had  broken  one  of  late  :  but  to  pay  for  one,  she  had 
neither  money  nor  mind.  So  she  agreed  to  let  Here- 
ward sleep  there,  for  the  value  of  two  jars. — "  But 
what  of  that  ugly  brute  of  a  horse  of  thine  ?  " 

"  She  will  do  well  enough  in  the  turf-shed." 

"  Then  thou  must  pay  with  a  panshin." 

"Ugh!"  groaned  Hereward;  "thou  drivest  a 
hard  bargain,  for  an  Englishwoman,  with  a  poor 
Englishman." 

"  How  knowest  thou  that  I  am  English?" 

"So  much   the  better  if  thou   art  not,"  thought 


388  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

Hereward ;  and  bargained  with  her  for  a  panshin 
against  a  lodging  for  the  horse  in  the  turf-house,  and 
a  bottle  of  bad  hay. 

Then,  he  went  in,  bringing  his  panniers  with  him 
with  ostentatious  care. 

"Thou  canst  sleep  there  on  the  rushes.  I  have 
naught  to  give  thee  to  eat." 

"Naught  needs  naught,"  said  Hereward;  threw 
himself  down  on  a  bundle  of  rush,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  snored  loudly. 

But  he  was  never  less  asleep.  He  looked  round  the 
whole  place  ;  and  he  listened  to  every  word. 

The  devil,  as  usual,  was  a  bad  paymaster ;  for  the 
witch's  cabin  seemed  only  somewhat  more  miserable 
than  that  of  other  old  women.  The  floor  was  mud, 
the  rafters  unceiled  ;  the  stars  shone  through  the  turf 
roof.  The  only  hint  of  her  trade  was  a  hanging  shelf, 
on  which  stood  five  or  six  little  earthen  jars,  and  a 
few  packets  of  leaves.  A  parchment,  scrawled  with 
characters  which  the  owner  herself  probably  did  not 
understand,  hung  against  the  cob  wall ;  and  a  human 
skull — probably  used  only  to  frighten  her  patients — 
dangled  from  the  roof-tree. 

But  in  a  corner,  stuck  against  the  wall,  was  some- 
thing which  chilled  Hereward's  blood  a  little  ; — a  dried 
human  hand,  which  he  knew  must  have  been  stolen 
off  the  gallows,  gripping  in  its  fleshless  fingers  a 
candle,  which  he  knew  was  made  of  human  fat.  That 
candle,  he  knew,  duly  lighted  and  carried,  would 
enable  the  witch  to  walk  unseen  into  any  house 
on  earth,  yea,  through  the  court  of  King  William 
himself,  while  it  drowned  all  men  in  preternatural 
slumber. 

Hereward  was  very  much  frightened.  He  believed 
devoutly  in  the  powers  of  a  witch. 

So  he  trembled  on  his  rushes,  and  wished  himself 
safe  through  that  adventure,  without  being  turned 
into  a  hare  or  a  wolf. 


HEREWARD  THE    WAKE.  389 

"  I  would  sooner  be  a  wolf  than  a  hare,  of  course  : 
but — who  comes  here  ?  " 

And  to  the  first  old  crone,  who  sat  winking  her 
bleared  eyes,  and  warming  her  bleared  hands  over 
a  little  heap  ot  peat  in  the  middle  of  the  cabin, 
entered  another  crone,  if  possible  uglier. 

"  Two  of  them  !  If  I  am  not  roasted  and  eaten  this 
night,  I  am  a  lucky  man." 

And  Hereward  crossed  himself  devoutly,  and  invoked 
St.  Ethelfrida  of  Ely,  St.  Guthlac  of  Crowland,  St. 
Felix  of  Ramsey — to  which  last  saint,  he  recollected, 
he  had  been  somewhat  remiss :  but,  above  all,  St. 
Peter  of  Peterborough,  whose  treasures  he  had  given 
to  the  Danes.  And  he  argued  stoutly  with  St.  Peter 
and  with  his  own  conscience,  that  the  means  sanctify 
the  end,  and  that  he  had  done  it  all  for  the  best. 

"  If  thou  wilt  help  me  out  of  this  strait,  and  the 
rest,  blessed  Apostle,  I  will  give  thee — I  will  go  to 
Constantinople  but  what  I  will  win  it — a  golden  table, 
twice  as  fine  as  those  villains  carried  off ;  and  one  ot 
the  Bourne  manors — Witham — or  Toft — or  Mainthorpe 
— whichever  pleases  thee  best,  in  full  fee  ;  and  a — 
and  a " 

But  while  Hereward  was  casting  in  his  mind  what 
gewgaw  further  might  suffice  to  appease  the  Apostle, 
he  was  recalled  to  business  and  common  sense  by 
hearing  the  two  old  hags  talk  to  each  other  in  French. 

His  heart  leaped  for  joy,  and  he  forgot  St.  Peter 
utterly. 

"Well,  how  have  you  sped?  Have  you  seen  the 
king?" 

"No;  but  Ivo  Taillebois.  Eh?  Who  the  foul 
fiend  have  you  lying  there  ?  " 

"Only  an  English  brute.  He  cannot  understand 
us.  Talk  on  :  only  don't  wake  the  hog.  Have  you 
got  the  gold  ?  " 

"  Never  mind." 

Then  there  was  a  grumbling  and  a  quarrelling,  from 


390  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE 

which  Hereward  understood  that  the  gold  was  to  be 
shared  between  them. 

"But  it  is  a  bit  of  a  chain.  To  cut  it  will 
spoil  it." 

The  other  insisted  ;  and  he  heard  them  chop  the 
gold  chain  in  two. 

4 'And  is  this  all?" 

4t  I  had  work  enough  to  get  that.  He  said,  no  play 
no  pay ;  and  he  would  give  it  me  after  the  isle  was 
taken.  But  I  told  him  my  spirit  was  a  Jewish  spirit, 
that  used  to  serve  Solomon  the  Wise  ;  and  he  would 
not  serve  me,  much  less  come  over  the  sea  from 
Normandy,  unless  he  smelt  gold ;  for  he  loved  it 
like  any  Jew." 

"  And  what  did  you  tell  him  then  ?  " 

"That  the  king  must  go  back  to  Aldreth  again; 
for  only  from  thence  would  he  take  the  isle  ;  for — and 
that  was  true  enough — I  dreamt  I  saw  all  the  water 
of  Aldreth  full  of  wolves,  clambering  over  into  the 
island  on  each  other's  backs." 

"That  means  that  some  of  them  will  be  drowned." 

"  Let  them  drown.  I  left  him  to  find  out  that  part 
of  the  dream  himself.  Then  I  told  him  how  he  must 
make  another  causeway,  bigger  and  stronger  than  the 
last,  and  a  tower  on  which  I  could  stand  and  curse 
the  English.  And  I  promised  him  to  bring  a  storm 
right  in  the  faces  of  the  English,  so  that  they  could 
neither  fight  nor  see." 

"  But  if  the  storm  does  not  come  ?  " 

"  It  will  come.     I  know  the  signs  of  the  sky — wh 
better? — and  the  weather  will  break  up  in  a  wee! 
Therefore  I  told  him  he  must  begin  his  works  at  once 
before  the  rain  came  on  ;  and  that  we  would  go  an 
ask  the  guardian  of  the  well     to  tell  us  the  fortunate 
day  for  attacking." 

"That  is  my  business,"  said  the  other;  "and  my 
spirit  likes  the  smell  of  gold  as  well  as  yours.  Little 

1"Cnstodem  fontium,"  the  guardian  spirit. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  391 

you  would  have  got  from  me,  if  you  had  not  given 
me  half  the  chain." 

Then  the  two  rose. 

"  Let  us  see  whether  the  English  hog  is  asleep." 

One  of  them  came  and  listened  to  Hereward's 
breathing,  and  put  her  hand  upon  his  chest.  His 
hair  stood  on  end;  a  cold  sweat  came  over  him.  But 
he  snored  more  loudly  than  ever. 

The  two  old  crones  went  out  satisfied.  Then 
Hereward  rose,  and  glided  after  them. 

They  went  down  a  meadow  to  a  little  well,  which 
Hereward  had  marked  as  he  rode  thither  hung  round 
with  bits  of  rag  and  flowers,  as  similar  "  holy  wells  " 
are  decorated  in  Ireland  to  this  day. 

He  hid  behind  a  hedge,  and  watched  them  stooping 
over  the  well,  mumbling  he  knew  not  what  of  cantrips. 

Then  there  was  a  silence,  and  a  tinkling  sound  as 
of  water. 

"  Once — twice — thrice,"  counted  the  witches.  Nine 
times  he  counted  the  tinkling  sound. 

"  The  ninth  day — the  ninth  day,  and  the  king  shall 
take  Ely,"  said  one  in  a  cracked  scream,  rising  and 
shaking  her  fist  towards  the  isle. 

Hereward  was  more  than  half-minded  to  have  put 
his  dagger — the  only  weapon  which  he  had — into  the 
two  old  beldames.  But  the  fear  of  an  outcry  kept  him 
still.  He  had  found  out  already  so  much,  that  he  was 
determined  to  find  out  more.  So  to-morrow  he  would 
go  up  to  the  Court  itself,  and  take  what  luck  sent. 

He  slipt  back  to  the  cabin,  and  lay  down  again; 
land  as  soon  as  he  had  seen  the  two  old  crones  safe 
asleep,  fell  asleep  himself,  and  was  so  tired  that  he 
I  laid  till  the  sun  was  high. 

"  Get  up  !  "  screamed  the  old  dame  at  last,  kicking 
lim,  "  or  I  shall  make  you  give  me  another  crock  for 

double  night's  rest." 

He  paid  his  lodging,  put  the  panniers  on  the  mare, 


392  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

When  he  came  to  the  outer  gateway  of  the  Court, 
he  tied  up  the  mare,  and  carried  the  crockery  in  on 
his  own  back,  boldly.  The  scullions  saw  him  ;  and 
called  him  into  the  kitchen,  to  see  his  crockery, 
without  the  least  intention  of  paying  for  what  they 
took. 

A  man  of  rank  belonging  to  the  court  came  in,  and 
stared  fixedly  at  Hereward. 

"  You  are  mightily  like  that  villain  Hereward,  man," 
quoth  he. 

"Anon?"  asked  Hereward,  looking  as  stupid  as 
he  could. 

"  If  it  were  not  for  his  brown  face  and  his  short  hair, 
he  is  as  like  the  fellow  as  a  churl  can  be  to  a  knight." 

"Bring  him  into  the  hall,"  quoth  another;  "and 
let  us  see  if  any  man  knows  him." 

Into  the  great  hall  he  was  brought,  and  stared  at 
by  knights  and  squires.  He  bent  his  knees,  rounded 
his  shoulders,  and  made  himself  look  as  mean  as  he 
could. 

Ivo  Taillebois  and  Earl  Warrenne  came  down  and 
had  a  look  at  him. 

"  Hereward  ?  "  said  Ivo.  "  I  will  warrant  that  little 
slouching  cur  is  not  he.  Hereward  must  be  half  as 
big  again,  if  it  be  true  that  he  can  kill  a  man  with 
one  blow  of  his  fist." 

"You  may  try  the  truth  of  that  tor  yourself  some 
day,"  thought  Hereward. 

' '  Does  any  one  here  talk  English  ?     Let  us  questic 
the  fellow,"  said  Earl  Warrenne. 

"Hereward?  Hereward?  Who  wants  to  kno\ 
about  that  villain?"  answered  the  potter,  as  soon 
as  he  was  asked  in  English.  "Would  to  heaven  he 
were  here,  and  I  could  see  some  of  you  noble  knights 
and  earls  paying  him  for  me :  for  I  owe  him  more 
than  ever  I  shall  pay  myself." 

11  What  does  he  mean  ?  " 

"  He  came  out  of  the  isle  ten  days  ago,   nigh  on 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  393 

to  evening,  and  drove  off  a  cow  of  mine  and  four 
sheep,  which  was  all  my  living,  noble  knights,  save 
these  pots." 

"  And  where  is  he  since  ?  " 

"  In  the  isle,  my  lords,  well-nigh  starved,  and  his 
folk  falling  away  from  him  daily,  from  hunger  and 
ague-fits.  I  doubt  if  there  be  a  hundred  sound  men 
left  in  Ely." 

"  Have  you  been  in  thither,  then,  villain  ?  " 

"Heaven  forbid!  I  in  Ely?  I  in  the  wolfs  den? 
If  I  went  in  with  naught  but  my  skin,  they  would  have 
it  off  me  before  I  got  out  again.  Ah,  if  your  lordships 
would  but  come  down,  and  make  an  end  of  him  once 
for  all ;  for  he  is  a  great  tyrant,  and  terrible,  and 
devours  us  poor  folk  like  so  many  mites  in  his  cheese." 

"  Take  this  babbler  into  the  kitchen,  and  feed  him," 
quoth  Earl  Warrenne  ;  and  so  the  colloquy  ended. 

Into  the  kitchen  again  the  potter  went.  The  king's 
luncheon  was  preparing  ;  so  he  listened  to  the  chatter  ; 
and  picked  up  this  at  least,  which  was  valuable  to  him  : 
that  the  witches'  story  was  true ;  that  a  great  attack 
would  be  made  from  Aldreth  :  that  boats  had  been 
ordered  up  the  river  to  Cotinglade,1  and  pioneers  and 
entrenching  tools  were  to  be  sent  on  that  day  to  the 
old  causeway. 

But  soon  he  had  to  take  care  ot  himself.  Earl 
Warrenne's  commands  to  feed  him  were  construed 
by  the  cook-boys  and  scullions  into  a  command  to 
make  him  drunk  likewise.  To  make  a  laughing-stock 
of  an  Englishman  was  too  tempting  a  jest  to  be 
resisted ;  and  Hereward  was  drenched  (says  the 
chronicler)  with  wine  and  beer,  and  sorely  baited  and 
badgered.  At  last  one  rascal  hit  upon  a  notable  plan. 

"  Pluck  out  the  English  hog's  hair  and  beard,  and 
put  him  blindfold  in  the  midst  of  his  pots,  and  see 
what  a  smash  we  shall  have." 

1  Seemingly  a  lade,  leat,  or  canal,  through  Cottenham  Fen  to  the  We«  twater  ; 
probably  a  Roman  work,  now  obliterated. 


394  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

Hereward  pretended  not  to  understand  the  words, 
which  were  spoken  in  French;  but  when  they  were 
interpreted  to  him,  he  grew  somewhat  red  about  the 
ears. 

Submit  he  would  not.  But  if  he  defended  himself, 
and  made  an  uproar  in  the  king's  Court,  he  might  very 
likely  find  himself  riding  Odin's  horse  before  the  hour 
was  out.  However,  happily  for  him,  the  wine  and 
beer  had  made  him  stout  of  heart,  and  when  one 
fellow  laid  hold  of  his  beard,  he  resisted  sturdily. 

The  man  struck  him,  and  that  hard.  Hereward, 
hot  of  temper,  and  careless  of  life,  struck  him  again, 
right  under  the  ear. 

The  fellow  dropped  for  dead. 

Up  leapt  cook-boys,  scullions,  "  le*cheurs "  (who 
hung  about  the  kitchen  to  "  lecher,"  lick  the  platters), 
and  all  the  foul-mouthed  rascality  of  a  great  mediaeval 
household,  and  attacked  Hereward  "  cum  furcis  et 
tridentibus  "  with  forks  and  flesh-hooks. 

Then  was  Hereward  aware  of  a  great  broach,  or 
spit,  before  the  fire;  and  recollecting  how  he  had 
used  such  a  one  as  a  boy  against  the  monks  of 
Peterborough,  was  minded  to  use  it  against  the 
cooks  of  Brandon;  which  he  did  so  heartily,  that 
in  a  few  moments  he  had  killed  one,  and  driven  the 
others  backward  in  a  heap. 

But  his  case  was  hopeless.  He  was  soon  over- 
powered by  numbers  from  outside,  and  dragged  into 
the  hall,  to  receive  judgment  for  the  mortal  crime  of 
slaying  a  man  within  the  precincts  of  the  Court. 

He  kept  up  heart.  He  knew  that  the  king  was 
there;  he  knew  that  he  should  most  likely  get 
justice  from  the  king.  If  not,  he  could  but  discover 
himself,  and  so  save  his  life,  for  that  William  would 
kill  him  willingly,  he  did  not  believe. 

So  he  went  in  boldly  and  willingly,  and  up  the  hall, 
where,  on  the  dais,  stood  William  the  Norman. 

William  had  finished  his  luncheon,  and  was  standing 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  395 

at  the  board-side.  A  page  held  water  in  a  silver  basin, 
in  which  he  was  washing  his  hands.  Two  more  knelt, 
and  laced  his  long  boots  ;  for  he  was,  as  always,  going 
'a-hunting. 

Then  Hereward  looked  at  the  face  of  the  great  man, 
and  felt  at  once  that  it  was  the  face  of  the  greatest  man 
whom  he  had  ever  met. 

"  I  am  not  that  man's  match,"  said  he  to  himself. 
"  Perhaps  it  will  all  end  in  being  his  man,  and  he 
my  master." 

"Silence,  knaves!"  said  William,  "and  speak  one 
of  you  at  a  time.  How  came  this  ?  " 

"A  likely  story,  forsooth!"  said  he,  when  he  had 
heard.  "A  poor  English  potter  comes  into  my  court, 
and  murders  my  men  under  my  very  eyes  for  mere 
sport.  I  do  not  believe  you,  rascals  !  You,  churl," 
and  he  spoke  through  an  English  interpreter,  "tell 
me  your  tale,  and  justice  you  shall  have  or  take,  as 
you  deserve.  I  am  the  King  of  England,  man,  and 
I  know  your  tongue,  though  I  speak  it  not  yet, 
more  pity." 

Hereward  fell  on  his  knees. 

"If  you  are  indeed  my  lord  the  king,  then  1  am 
safe ;  for  there  is  justice  in  you  :  at  least  so  all  men 
say."  And  he  told  his  tale  manfully. 

"  Splendeur  Dex  !  but  this  is  a  far  likelier  story, 
and  I  believe  it.  Hark  you,  you  ruffians  !  Here  am 
I,  trying  to  conciliate  these  English  by  justice  and 
mercy,  whenever  they  will  let  me :  and  here  are  you 
outraging  them,  and  driving  them  mad  and  desperate, 
just  that  you  may  get  a  handle  against  them,  and  thus 
rob  the  poor  wretches  and  drive  them  into  the  forest. 
From  the  lowest  to  the  highest — from  Ivo  Taillebois 
there,  down  to  you  cook-boys — you  are  all  at  the 
same  game.  And  I  will  stop  it !  The  next  time  I  hear 
of  outrage  to  unarmed  man  or  harmless  woman, 
I  will  hang  that  culpritj  were  he  Odo  my  brother 
himself." 


396  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

This  excellent  speech  was  enforced  with  oaths  so 
strange  and  terrible,  that  Ivo  Taillebois  shook  in  his 
boots ;  and  the  chaplain  prayed  fervently  that  the 
roof  might  not  fall  in  on  their  heads. 

"Thou  smilest,  man?"  said  William  quickly,  to 
the  kneeling  Hereward.  "  So  thou  understandest 
French  ?  " 

"  A  few  words  only,  most  gracious  king,  which  we 
potters  pick  up,  wandering  everywhere  with  our  wares," 
said  Hereward,  speaking  in  French  ;  for  so  keen  was 
William's  eye,  that  he  thought  it  safer  to  play  no 
tricks  with  him. 

Nevertheless,  he  made  his  French  so  execrable,  that 
the  very  scullions  grinned,  in  spite  of  their  fear. 

"Look  you,"  said  William,  "you  are  no  common 
churl ;  you  have  fought  too  well  for  that.  Let  me 
see  your  arm." 

Hereward  drew  up  his  sleeve. 

"  Potters  do  not  carry  sword-scars  like  those ; 
neither  are  they  tattooed  like  English  Thanes.  Hold 
up  thy  head,  man,  and  let  us  see  thy  throat." 

Hereward,  who  had  carefully  hung  down  his  head 
to  prevent  his  throat-patterns  being  seen,  was  forced 
to  lift  it  up. 

"Aha!  So  I  expected.  There  is  fair  ladies'  work 
there.  Is  not  this  he  who  was  said  to  be  so  like 
Hereward  ?  Very  good.  Put  him  in  ward  till  I 
come  back  from  hunting.  But  do  him  no  harm. 
For " — and  William  fixed  on  Hereward  eyes  of  the 
most  intense  intelligence — "were  he  Hereward  him- 
self, I  should  be  right  glad  to  see  Hereward  safe 
and  sound  ;  my  man  at  last,  and  earl  of  all  between 
Humber  and  the  Fens." 

But  Hereward  did  not  rise  at  the  bait.  With  a  face 
of  stupid  and  ludicrous  terror,  he  made  reply  in  broken 
French. 

"  Have  rnercy,  mercy,  Lord  King  !  Make  not  that 
fiend  earl  over  us.  Even  Ivo  Taillebois  there  would 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  397 

be  better  than  he.  Send  him  to  be  earl  over  the  imps 
in  hell,  or  over  the  wild  Welsh  who  are  worse  still : 
but  not  over  us,  good  Lord  King,  whom  he  hath 
polled  and  peeled  till  we  are " 

"  Silence  ! "  said  William,  laughing,  as  did  all  round 
him.  "Thou  art  a  cunning  rogue  enough,  who- 
ever thou  art.  Go  into  limbo,  and  behave  thyself  till 
I  come  back." 

"  All  saints  send  your  grace  good  sport,  and  thereby 
me  a  good  deliverance,"  quoth  Here  ward,  who  knew 
that  his  fate  might  depend  on  the  temper  in  which 
William  returned.  So  he  was  thrust  into  an  outhouse, 
and  there  locked  up. 

He  sat  on  an  empty  barrel,  meditating  on  the 
chances  of  his  submitting  to  the  king  after  all,  when 
the  door  opened,  and  in  strode  one  with  a  drawn 
sword  in  one  hand,  and  a  pair  of  leg-shackles  in  the 
other. 

"  Hold  out  thy  shins,  fellow !  Thou  art  not  going 
to  sit  at  thine  ease  there  like  an  abbot,  after  killing 
one  of  us  grooms,  and  bringing  the  rest  of  us  into 
disgrace.  Hold  out  thy  legs,  1  say  !  " 

"Nothing  easier,"  quoth  Hereward  cheerfully,  and 
held  out  a  leg.  But  when  the  man  stooped  to  put 
on  the  fetters,  he  received  a  kick  which  sent  him 
staggering. 

After  which  he  recollected  very  little,  at  least  in 
this  world.  For  Hereward  cut  off  his  head  with  his 
own  sword. 

After  which  (says  the  chronicler)  he  broke  away 
out  of  the  house,  and  over  garden  walls  and  palings, 
hiding  and  running,  till  he  got  to  the  front  gate, 
and  leaped  upon  mare  Swallow. 

And  none  saw  him,  save  one  unlucky  groom-boy, 
who  stood  yelling  and  cursing  in  front  of  the  mare's 
head,  and  went  to  seize  her  bridle. 

Whereon,  between  the  imminent  danger,  and  the 
bad  language,  Hereward's  blood  rose,  and  he  smote 


398  HEREWARD    THE   WAKE. 

that  unlucky  groom-boy :    but  whether  he  slew  him 
or  not,  the  chronicler  had  rather  not  say. 

Then  he  shook  up  mare  Swallow,  and  with  one 
great  shout  of  "A  Wake!  A  Wake!"  rode  for  his 
life,  with  knights  and  squires  (for  the  hue  and  cry 
was  raised)  galloping  at  her  heels. 

Who  then  were  astonished  but  those  knights,  as 
they  saw  the  ugly  potter's  garron  gaining  on  them, 
length  after  length,  till  she  and  her  rider  had  left 
them  far  behind  ? 

Who  then  was  proud  but  Hereward,  as  the  mare 
tucked  her  great  thighs  under  her,  and  swept  on 
over  heath  and  rabbit-burrow,  over  rush  and  fen, 
sound  ground  and  rotten  all  alike  to  that  enormous 
stride,  to  that  keen  bright  eye  which  foresaw  every 
footfall,  to  that  raking  shoulder  which  picked  her 
up  again  at  every  stagger  ? 

Hereward  laid  the  bridle  on  her  neck,  and  let  her 
go.  Fall  she  could  not,  and  tire  she  could  not ;  and 
he  half  wished  she  might  go  on  for  ever.  Where 
could  a  man  be  better,  than  on  a  good  horse,  with 
all  the  cares  of  this  life  blown  away  out  of  his  brains 
by  the  keen  air  which  rushed  around  his  temples  ? 
And  he  galloped  on,  as  cheery  as  a  boy,  shouting 
at  the  rabbits  as  they  scuttled  from  under  his  feet, 
and  laughing  at  the  dottrel  as  they  postured  and 
anticked  on  the  mole  hills. 

But  when  he  got  through  Mildenhall,  he  began  to 
think  how  he  should  get  home  to  Ely. 

The  hue  and  cry  would  be  out  against  him.  The 
ports  and  ferries  to  the  east  of  the  isle  as  far  south 
as  Cambridge  would  be  guarded  ;  and  all  the  more 
surely,  on  account  of  the  approaching  attack.  True, 
he  knew  many  a  path  and  ford  which  the  French 
could  not  know ;  but  he  feared  to  trust  himself  in 
the  labyrinth  of  fens  and  meres,  with  a  mob  of  pursue 
at  his  heels.  A  single  mistake  might  pound  hir 
among  morasses,  and  force  him,  even  if  he  escaf 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  399 

himself  through  the  reeds,  to  leave  the  mare  behind. 
And  to  do  that  was  shame  and  loss  intolerable.  No. 
Mare  Swallow,  for  her  own  sake,  must  do  a  deed 
that  day. 

He  would  go  south  by  the  Roman  roads.  He  would 
go  right  round  the  fens  ;  round  Cambridge  itself ;  into 
the  western  forests.  There  he  could  lie  hid  till  some 
friend  at  Somersham  or  Earith  should  ferry  him  over 
to  the  western  side  of  the  isle.  The  distance  was 
great ;  well-nigh  fifty  miles  :  but  the  land  was  light 
and  sound,  and  the  going  safe  and  good.  It  must 
be  done.  It  should  be  done. 

He  gathered  the  mare  together,  as  he  rose  the  slope 
of  Kennet  Heath.  She  was  going  steadily  and  soundly, 
breathing  like  a  sleeping  child.  His  pursuers  were 
two  miles  behind  ;  black  dots  among  the  barrows  on 
Barton  hill.  He  had  time  to  rest  her ;  and  trotted 
on  steadily,  keeping  to  the  uplands  and  the  high- 
road, from  whence  he  could  see  far  and  wide  over 
the  land. 

On  by  Newmarket  heath — nameless  and  desert 
then — over  smooth  chalk  turf ;  through  glades  of 
fern  and  thorn  ;  past  barrows  where  slept  the  heroes 
of  old  times,  Briton,  Roman,  Saxon,  Dane ;  fore- 
fathers of  his  own,  perhaps,  among  them.  Ay — that 
was  the  place  for  a  hero  to  sleep  in.  Not  choked 
in  a  minster  charnel-house,  amid  green  damp  and 
droning  monks  :  but  out  under  the  free  sky,  with 
his  weapons  round  him,  his  horse,  his  dog,  the  antlers 
of  his  game  ;  where  he  might  come  up  out  of  his 
barrow  on  moonlight  nights,  and  stare  at  the  flying 
clouds,  and  scent  the  rushing  breeze.  Ah,  that  he 
could  be  buried  there :  but  then  Torfrida — he  should 
like  to  lie  by  her. 

He  was  at  the  Rech-dyke  now :  and  warily  he  looked 
eastward,  as  he  led  the  mare  up  the  steep  bank,  for 
French  Scouts  between  him  and  the  Fens  :  but  none 
were  within  sight. 


400  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE 

He  paused  upon  the  top  of  that  great  earth-work. 
Dangerous  as  it  was  to  stop  in  that  exposed  height, 
making  himself  a  beacon  against  the  sky,  he  could 
not  but  look  down,  and  back,  at  all  which  remained 
of  free  English  soil. 

He  looked  down  over  Swarmam,  Quy,  and  Water- 
beach,  and  the  rest  of  the  tree-embowered  hamlets 
which  fringed  the  fen,  green  knolls  on  the  shore  of 
a  boundless  sea  of  pale-blue  mist;  and  above  that 
sea,  to  the  far  north,  a  line  of  darker  blue,  which 
was  the  sacred  isle.  As  the  sun  sank  lower,  higher 
rose  the  mist;  and  the  isle  grew  more  and  more  faint, 
vaporous,  dreamy,  as  fen-distances  are  wont  to  be. 
Was  it  not  about  to  fade  away  in  reality;  to  become 
a  vapour,  and  a  dream,  and  leave  him  alone,  and 
free?  Earls,  knights,  housecarles,  monks,  seemed 
all  becoming  phantoms,  fading  with  their  fading 
cause.  Was  it  worth  while  to  fight,  to  die,  for  them, 
for  anything?  What  was  William  to  him?  What 
was  England?  Why  play  out  the  lost  game  to  the 
last?  Why  not  leave  all  behind,  and  lide  down 
south — to  the  sea — the  free  sea,  and  the  wild  joys 
of  the  Viking's  life?  And  he  led  the  mare  down 
the  Rech-dyke,  and  up  again  on  to  the  down,  faltering, 
stopping,  his  head  sunken  on  his  breast,  his  heart 
sunken  within. 

But  Torfrida — Torfrida  and  the  little  girl.  They  at 
least  were  not  phantoms.  They  could  not  vanish, 
could  not  even  die — to  him.  His  they  were  for  ever. 
Wbat  fiend  had  been  putting  boy's  dreams  into  his 
head? 

And  he  sprang  hastily  into  the  saddle,  as  one  that 
flees  from,  a  temptation.  "Home,  mare!  Home  to 
prison  again  !  We  have  been  out  far  too  long,  old 
iafss  !  too  long." 

He  held  on  over  the  Fleam-dyke  :  but  he  feared  to 
turn  downwards  into  the  Cambridge  flats,  and  kept  his 
•vantage-ground  upon  the  downs;  till,  on  the  top  of  the 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE  401 

Gogmagog,  he  struck  the  old  Roman  road,  which  men 
call  "Wort's  Causeway"  at  this  day.  Down  that  he 
turned,  short  to  the  right,  toward  the  green  meadows, 
and  the  long  line  of  mighty  elms,  and  the  little  village 
which  clustered,  unconscious  of  its  coming  glories, 
beneath  the  new  French  keep,  besides  the  Roman 
bridge. 

The  setting  sun  gilded  the  white  flints  of  the  keep; 
and  Hereward  looked  on  them  with  a  curse.  But  it 
gilded,  too,  the  tree-tops  of  the  great  forest  beyond; 
and  Hereward  uttered  something  like  a  prayer  to  St. 
Etheldreda  and  her  ladies  three.  For  if  he  could  but 
reach  that  forest,  he  was  safe. 

The  Wake  was,  of  course,  too  wise  to  go  through 
Cambridge  street,  under  the  eyes  of  the  French 
garrison.  But  he  saw  that  the  Roman  road  led  straight 
to  a  hamlet  some  mile  above  the  town;  and  at  the 
road  end,  he  guessed,  there  must  be  either  a  bridge  or 
a  ford.  There  he  could  cross  the  Cam.  And  he  rode 
slowly  downward,  longing  for  it  to  grow  dark,  and 
saving  the  mare,  in  case  she  should  be  needed  for  a 
sudden  rush. 

And  a  rush  was  soon  needed.  For  on  the  hill 
behind  him  he  saw  armour  glitter  in  the  red  light; 
and  a  brace  of  knights.  They  paused  for  a  moment; 
and  then  espied  him.  One  galloped  down  the  road 
toward  him;  the  other  spurred  to  the  right,  straight 
for  Cambridge. 

"  I  shall  have  the  whole  pack  of  wolves  out,  and  on 
me,  in  half  an  hour,"  thought  Hereward;  and  struck 
spurs  into  the  mare. 

Into  the  ford — by  Chaucer's  after-famous  mill — he 
dashed,  making  more  splash  than  ever  did  geese  in 
Shelf ord  Fen;  and  out  again,  and  on  to  the  clay  wold, 
and  away  for  Coton  and  Madingley  rise,  and  the  black 
wall  of  oak,  and  ash,  and  elm. 

And  as  he  entered  the  forest  at  Madingley,  he  rose 
in  his  stirrups,  with  a  shout  of  "A  Wake  !  A  Wake  ! " 


402  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

which  was  heard,  for  aught  he  cared,  in  Cambridge 
Castle  :  and  then  rode  on  leisurely  toward  the 
Draytons,  and  the  ferry  over  the  Ouse  at  Holy  well ; 
for  well  he  knew  that  they  who  could  not  catch  The 
Wake  in  the  field,  were  still  less  like  to  catch  him  in 
the  wood. 

And  so  through  the  forest,  by  a  clear  moonlight 
(says  the  chronicler),  he  came  in  the  early  morning  to 
the  Isle  Somersham,  which  was  then  all  deep  wood 
(as  the  names  of  Woodhurst  and  Somersham  Parks 
still  testify),  and  was  ferried  over  at  Earith  by  one 
of  his  many  friends  into  the  Isle  of  Ely. 

And  of  all  those  knights  that  followed  him,  none 
ever  saw  or  heard  sign  of  him,  save  one  :  and  his 
horse  came  to  a  standstill  in  "the  aforesaid  wood," 
and  he  rolled  off  and  lay  breathless  under  a  tree, 
looking  up  at  his  horse's  heaving  flanks  and  wagging 
tail,  and  wondering  how  he  should  get  out  of  that 
place  before  the  English  found  him  and  made  an  end 
of  him. 

Then  there  came  up  to  him  a  ragged  churl,  and 
asked  him  who  he  was,  and  offered  to  help  him. 

"  For  the  sake  of  God  and  courtesy,"  quoth  he,  his 
French  pride  being  well-nigh  beat  out  of  him,  "if 
thou  hast  seen  or  heard  anything  of  Hereward  the 
Wake,  good  fellow,  tell  me,  and  I  will  repay  thee 
well." 

' '  As  thou  hast  asked  me  for  the  sake  of  God  and  o 
courtesy,  Sir  Knight,  I  will  tell  thee.  I  am  The  Wake 
And  in  token  thereof,  thou  shalt  give  me  thy  lance  anc 
sword,  and  take  instead  this  sword  which  I  carried  of 
from  the  king's  Court  at  Brandon  ;  and  promise  me 
on  the  faith  of  a  knight,  to  bear  it  back  to  King 
William  ;  and  tell  him,  that  Hereward  and  he  have 
met  at  last ;  and  that  he  had  best  beware  of  the  da) 
when  they  shall  meet  again." 

So  that  knight,  not  having  recovered  his  wind,  was 
tain  to  submit,  and  go  home  a  sadder  and  a  wiser 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  403 

man.  And  King  William  laughed  a  royal  laugh,  and 
commanded  his  knights  that  they  should  in  no  wise 
harm  The  Wake,  but  take  him  alive,  and  bring  him  in, 
and  they  should  have  great  rewards. 

Which  seemed  to  them  more  easily  said  than  done. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

HOW  THEY  FOUGHT  AGAIN  AT  ALDRETH. 

HEREWARD  came  back  in  fear  and  trembling  after  all. 
He  believed  in  the  magic  powers  of  the  witch  of 
Brandon  :  and  he  asked  Torfrida,  in  his  simplicity, 
whether  she  was  not  cunning  enough  to  defeat  her 
spells  by  counter  spells. 

Torfrida  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

"  My  knight,  I  have  long  since  given  up  such 
vanities.  Let  us  not  fight  evil  with  evil,  but  rather 
with  good.  Better  are  prayers  than  charms  ;  for  the 
former  are  heard  in  heaven  above,  and  the  latter  only 
in  the  pit  below.  Let  me  and  all  the  women  of  Ely  go 
rather  in  procession  to  St.  Etheldreda's  well,  there 
above  the  fort  at  Aldreth,  and  pray  St.  Etheldreda  to 
be  with  us  when  the  day  shall  come  ;  and  defend  her 
own  isle,  and  the  honour  of  us  women  who  have 
taken  refuge  in  her  holy  arms." 

So  all  the  women  of  Ely  walked  out  barefoot  to  St. 
Etheldreda's  well,  with  Torfrida  at  their  head,  clothed 
in  sackcloth,  and  with  fetters  on  her  wrists,  and  waist, 
and  ankles ;  which  she  vowed,  after  the  strange, 
sudden,  earnest  fashion  of  those  times,  never  to  take 
off  again  till  she  saw  the  French  host  flee  from  Aldreth 
before  the  face  of  St.  Etheldreda.  So  they  prayed, 
while  Hereward  and  his  men  worked  at  the  forts 
below.  And  when  they  came  back,  and  Torfrida  was 
washing  her  feet,  sore  and  bleeding  from  her  pilgrim- 
age, Hereward  came  in. ' 


404  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"You  have  murdered  your  poor  soft  feet,  and  taken 
nothing  thereby,  I  fear." 

"  I  have.  If  I  had  walked  on  sharp  razors  all 
the  way,  I  would  have  done  it  gladly,  to  know  what 
1  know  now.  As  I  prayed  I  looked  out  over  the  fen  ; 
and  St.  Etheldreda  put  a  thought  into  my  heart.  But 
it  is  so  terrible  a  one,  that  I  fear  to  tell  it  to  you.  And 
yet  it  seems  our  only  chance." 

Hereward  threw  himself  at  her  feet,  and  prayed  her 
to  tell.  At  last  she  spoke,  as  one  half  afraid  of  her 
own  words : 

"  Will  the  reeds  burn,  Hereward  ?  " 

Hereward  kissed  her  feet  again  and  again,  calling 
her  his  prophetess,  his  saviour. 

"Burn  !  yes,  like  tinder,  in  this  March  wind,  if  the 
drought  only  holds.  Pray  that  the  drought  may  hold, 
Torfrida." 

"There,  there,  say  no  more.  How  hard-hearted 
war  makes  even  us  women  !  There,  help  me  to  take 
off  this  rough  sackcloth,  and  dress  myself  again." 

Meanwhile  William  had  moved  his  army  again  to 
Cambridge,  and  on  to  Willingham-field,  and  there  he 
began  to  throw  up  those  "globos  and  montanas,"of 
which  Leofric's  paraphraser  talks,  but  of  which  now 
no  trace  remains.  Then  he  began  to  rebuild  his 
causeway,  broader  and  stronger  ;  and  commanded  all 
the  fishermen  of  the  Ouse  to  bring  their  boats  to 
Cotinglade,  and  ferry  over  his  materials.  "Among 
whom  came  Hereward  in  a  very  narrow  canoe,  with 
head  and  beard  shaven  lest  he  should  be  known,  and 
worked  diligently  among  the  rest.  But  the  sun  did 
not  set  that  day  without  mischief;  for  before  Here- 
ward went  off,  he  finished  his  work  by  setting  the 
whole  on  fire,  so  that  it  was  all  burnt,  and  some  of 
the  French  killed  and  drowned." 

And  so  The  Wake  went  on,  with  strategems  and 
ambushes,  till  "after  seven  days'  continual  fighting, 
they  had  hardly  done  one  day's  work ;  save  four 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  405 

globes  of  wood,  in  which  they  intended  to  put  their 
artillery.  But  on  the  eighth  day  they  determined  to 
attack  the  isle,  putting  in  the  midst  of  them  that 
pythoness  woman  on  a  high  place,  where  she  might 
be  safe  freely  to  exercise  her  art." 

It  was  not  Here  ward  alone  who  had  entreated  Tor- 
frida  to  exercise  her  magic  art  in  their  behalf.  But 
she  steadily  refused  ;  and  made  good  Abbot  Thurstan 
support  her  refusal  by  a  strict  declaration,  that  he 
would  have  no  fiends'  games  played  in  Ely,  as  long  as 
he  was  abbot  alive  on  land. 

Torfrida,  meanwhile,  grew  utterly  wild.  Her  con- 
science smote  her,  in  spite  of  her  belief  that  St. 
Etheldreda  had  inspired  her,  at  the  terrible  resource 
which  she  had  hinted  to  her  husband,  and  which  she 
knew  well  he  would  carry  out  with  terrible  success. 
Pictures  of  agony  and  death  floated  before  her  eyes, 
and  kept  her  awake  at  night.  She  watched  long 
hours  in  the  church  in  prayer ;  she  fasted  ;  she  dis- 
ciplined her  tender  body  with  sharp  pains  ;  she  tried, 
after  the  fashion  of  those  times,  to  atone  for  her  sin, 
if  sin  it  was.  At  last  she  had  worked  herself  up  into 
a  religious  frenzy.  She  saw  St.  Etheldreda  in  the 
clouds  towering  over  the  isle,  menacing  the  French 
host  with  her  virgin  palm-branch.  She  uttered  wild 
prophecies  of  ruin  and  defeat  to  the  French  ;  and  then, 
when  her  frenzy  collapsed,  moaned  secretly  of  ruin 
and  defeat  hereafter  to  themselves.  But  she  would 
be  bold  ;  she  would  play  her  part ;  she  would  en- 
courage the  heroes  who  looked  to  her  as  one  inspired, 
wiser  and  loftier  than  themselves. 

And  so  it  befell,  that  when  the  men  marched  down 
to  Haddenham  that  afternoon,  Torfrida  rode  at  their 
head  on  a  white  charger,  robed  from  throat  to  ankle 
in  sackcloth,  her  fetters  clanking  on  her  limbs.  But 
she  called  on  the  English  to  see  in  her  the  emblem  of 
England  captive  yet  unconquered  ;  and  to  break  her 
fetters,  and  the  worse  fetters  of  every  woman  in 


406  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

England  who  was  the  toy  and  slave  of  the  brutal 
invaders  ;  and  so  fierce  a  triumph  sparkled  from  her 
wild  hawk-eyes  that  the  Englishmen  looked  up  to  her 
weird  beauty  as  to  that  of  an  inspired  saint ;  and  when 
the  French  came  on  to  the  assault  there  stood  on  the 
grassy  mound  behind  the  English  fort  a  figure  clothed 
in  sackcloth,  barefooted  and  bareheaded,  with  fetters 
shining  on  waist,  and  wrist,  and  ankle — her  long  black 
locks  streaming  in  the  wind,  her  long  white  arms 
stretched  cross-wise  toward  heaven,  in  imitation  of 
Moses  of  old  above  the  battle  with  Amalek  ;  invoking 
St.  Etheldreda  and  all  the  powers  of  heaven,  and 
chanting  doom  and  defiance  to  the  invaders. 

And  the  English  looked  on  her,  and  cried  :  "  She  is 
a  prophetess  !  We  will  surely  do  some  great  deed 
this  day,  or  die  around  her  feet  like  heroes  !  " 

And  opposite  to  her,  upon  the  French  tower, 
the  old  hag  of  Brandon  howled  and  gibbered  with 
filthy  gestures,  calling  for  the  thunderstorm  which 
did  not  come ;  for  all  above  the  sky  was  cloudless 
blue. 

And  the  English  saw  and  felt,  though  they  coulc 
not  speak  it,  dumb  nation  as  they  were,  the  contra 
between  the  spirit  of  cruelty  and  darkness,  and  the 
spirit  of  freedom  and  light. 

So  strong  was  the  new  bridge,  that  William  truste 
himself  upon  it  on  horseback,  with  Ivo  Taillebois 
his  side. 

William  doubted  the  powers  of  the  witch,  and  felt 
rather  ashamed  of  his  new  helpmate  ;  but  he  was 
fident  in  his  bridge,  and  in  the  heavy  artillery  whic 
he  had  placed  in  his  four  towers. 

Ivo   Taillebois  was  utterly  confident  in   his  witc 
and  in  the  bridge  likewise. 

William  waited  for  the  rising  of  the  tide  ;  and  wher 
the  tide  was  near  its  height,  he  commanded  the 
artillery  to  open,  and  clear  the  fort  opposite  of  the 
English.  Then  with  crash  and  twang,  the  balistas 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  407 

and  catapults  went  off,  and  great  stones  and  heavy 
lances  hurtled  through  the  air. 

"  Back !  "  shouted  Torfrida,  raised  almost  to  mad- 
ness, by  fasting,  self-torture,  and  religious  frenzy. 
"  Out  of  yon  fort,  every  man.  Why  waste  your  lives 
under  that  artillery?  Stand  still  this  day,  and  see 
how  the  saints  of  heaven  shall  fight  for  you." 

So  utter  was  the  reverence  which  she  commanded 
for  the  moment,  that  every  man  drew  back,  and 
crowded  round  her  feet  outside  the  fort. 

"  The  cowards  are  fleeing  already.  Let  your  men 
go,  Sir  King  !  "  shouted  Taillebois. 

"  On  to  the  assault !  Strike  for  Normandy  !  " 
shouted  William. 

"  I  fear  much,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  that  this  is 
some  stratagem  of  that  Wake's.  But  conquered  they 
must  be." 

The  evening  breeze  curled  up  the  reach.  The  great 
pike  splashed  out  from  the  weedy  shores,  sending  the 
whitefish  flying  in  shoals  into  the  low  glare  of  the 
setting  sun  :  and  heeded  not,  stupid  things,  the  barges 
packed  with  mailed  men,  which  swarmed  in  the  reeds 
on  either  side  the  bridge,  and  began  to  push  out  into 
the  river. 

The  starlings  swung  in  thousands  round  the  reed- 
ronds,  looking  to  settle  in  their  wonted  place :  but 
dare  not;  and  rose  and  swung  round  again,  telling 
each  other,  in  their  manifold  pipings,  how  all  the  reed- 
ronds  teemed  with  mailed  men.  And  all  above,  the 
sky  was  cloudless  blue. 

And  then  came  a  trample,  a  roll  of  many  feet  on 
the  soft  spongy  peat,  a  low  murmur  which  rose  into 
wild  shouts  of  "  Dex  Aie  !  "  as  a  human  tide  poured 
along  the  causeway,  and  past  the  witch  of  Brandon 
Heath. 

"  Dex  Aie?  "  quoth  William,  with  a  sneer.  "  Deb- 
bles  Aie  !  would  fit  better." 

"  If,  sire,  the  powers  above  would  have  helped  us, 


408  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

we  should  have  been  happy  enough  to But  if  they 

will  not,  it  is  not  our  fault  if  we  try  below,"  said  Ivo 
Taillebois. 

William  laughed.  "  It  is  well  to  have  two  strings 
to  one's  bow,  sir.  Forward,  men  !  forward  !  "  shouted 
he,  riding  out  to  the  bridge-end,  under  the  tower. 

"  Forward  !  "  shouted  Ivo  Taillebois. 

"Forward!"  shouted  the  hideous  hag  overhead. 
"The  spirit  of  the  well  fights  for  you." 

"  Fight  for  yourselves,"  said  William. 

There  were  fifty  yards  of  deep  clear  water 
between  Frenchman  and  Englishman.  Only  fifty 
yards.  Not  only  the  arrows  and  arblast  quarrels,  but 
heavy  hand-javelins,  flew  across  every  moment ;  every 
now  and  then  a  man  toppled  forward,  and  plunged 
into  the  blue  depth  among  the  eels  and  pike,  to  find 
his  comrades  of  the  summer  before,  and  then  the 
stream  was  still  once  more.  The  coots  and  water-hens 
swam  in  and  out  of  the  reeds,  and  wondered  what  it 
was  all  about.  The  water-lilies  flapped  upon  the 
ripple,  as  lonely  as  in  the  loneliest  mere.  But  their 
floats  were  soon  broken,  their  white  cups  stained 
with  human  gore.  Fifty  yards  of  deep  clear  water. 
And  treasure  inestimable  to  win  by  crossing  it. 

They  thrust  out  balks,  canoes,  pontoons ;  they 
crawled  upon  them  like  ants,  and  thrust  out  more  yet 
beyond,  heedless  of  their  comrades,  who  slipped  and 
splashed,  and  sank,  holding  out  vain  hands  to  hands 
too  busy  to  seize  them.  And  always  the  old  witch 
jabbered  overhead  with  her  cantrips,  pointing,  mum- 
ming, praying  for  the  storm  ;  while  all  above,  the  sky 
was  cloudless  blue. 

And  always  on  the  mound  opposite,  while  darts  and 
quarrels  whistled  round  her  head,  stood  Torfrida,1 
pointing  with  outstretched  scornful  finger  at  the 
strugglers  in  the  river  and  chanting  loudly  what  the 
Frenchmen  could  not  tell :  but  it  made  their  hearts,  as 
it  was  meant  to  do,  melt  like  wax  within  them. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  409 

"  They  have  a  counter  witch  to  yours,  Ivo,  it  seems  ; 
and  a  fairer  one.  I  am  afraid  the  devils,  especially  it" 
Asmodeus  be  at  hand,  are  more  likely  to  listen  to  her 
than  to  that  old  broomstick-rider  aloft." 

"  Fair  is,  that  fair  cause  has,  Sir  King." 

"  A  good  argument  for  honest  men,  but  none  for 
fiends.  What  is  the  fair  fiend  pointing  at  so  earnestly 
there?" 

" Somewhat  among  the  reeds.  Hark  to  her  now! 
She  is  singing,  somewhat  more  like  an  angel  than  a 
fiend,  I  will  say  for  her." 

And  Torfrida's  song,  coming  clear  and  sweet  across 
the  water,  rose  louder  and  shriller  till  it  almost 
drowned  the  jabbering  of  the  witch. 

"  She  sees  more  than  we  do." 

"  But  I  see  !  "  cried  William,  smiting  his  hand  upon 
his  thigh.  "Par  le  splendeur  Dex !  She  has  been 
showing  them  where  to  fire  the  reeds  ;  and  they  have 
done  it  !  " 

A  puff  of  smoke  ;  a  wisp  of  flame  ;  and  then  another 
and  another  ;  and  a  canoe  shot  out  from  the  reeds  on 
the  French  shore,  and  glided  into  the  reeds  of  the 
island. 

"The  reeds  are  on  fire,  men!  Have  a  care," 
shouted  Ivo. 

"  Silence,  fool !  Frighten  them  once,  and  they  will 
leap  like  sheep  into  that  gulf.  Men  !  right  about ! 
draw  off — slowly  and  in  order.  We  will  attack  again 
to-morrow. " 

The  cool  voice  of  the  great  captain  arose  too  late. 
A  line  of  flame  was  leaping  above  the  reed  bed, 
crackling  and  howling  before  the  evening  breeze.  The 
column  on  the  causeway  had  seen  their  danger  but  too 
soon,  and  fled.  But  whither? 

A  shower  of  arrows,  quarrels,  javelins,  tell  upon  the 
head  of  the  column  as  it  tried  to  face  about  and  retreat, 
confusing  it  more  and  more.  One  arrow,  shot  by  no 
common  arm,  went  clean  through  William's  shield, 


4io  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

and  pinned  it  to  the  mailed  flesh.  He  could  not  stifle 
a  cry  of  pain. 

"  You  are  wounded,  sire.  Ride  for  your  life  !  It 
is  worth  that  of  a  thousand  of  these  churls,"  and  Ivo 
seized  William's  bridle  and  dragged  him,  in  spite  of 
himself,  through  the  cowering,  shrieking,  struggling 
crowd. 

On  came  the  flame,  leaping  and  crackling,  laughing 
and  shrieking,  like  a  live  fiend.  The  archers  and 
slingers  in  the  boats  cowered  before  it;  and  fell, 
scorched  corpses,  as  it  swept  on.  It  reached  the 
causeway,  surged  up,  recoiled  from  the  mass  of  human 
beings,  then  sprang  over  their  heads  and  passed 
onwards,  girding  them  with  flame. 

The  reeds  were  burning  around  them;  the  timbers 
of  the  bridge  caught  fire;  the  peat  and  faggots 
smouldered  beneath  their  feet.  They  sprang  from  the 
burning  footway,  and  plunged  into  the  fathomless  bog, 
covering  their  faces  and  eyes  with  scorched  hands; 
and  then  sank  in  the  black  gurgling  slime. 

Ivo  dragged  William  on,  regardless  of  curses  and 
prayers  from  his  soldiery;  and  they  reached  the  shore 
just  in  time  to  see  between  them  and  the  water  a 
long  black  smouldering  writhing  line;  the  morass  to 
right  and  left,  which  had  been  a  minute  before  deep 
reed,  an  open  smutty  pool,  dotted  "with  boatsful  of 
shrieking  and  cursing  men;  and  at  the  causeway  end 
the  tower  with  the  flame  climbing  up  its  posts,  and 
the  witch  of  Brandon  throwing  herself  desperately 
from  the  top,  and  falling  dead  upon  the  embers,  a 
motionless  heap  of  rags. 

"  Fool  that  thou  art  !  Fool  that  I  was  !  "  cried 
the  great  king,  as  he  rolled  off  his  horse  at  his  tent 
door,  cursing  with  rage  and  pain. 

Ivo  Taillebois  sneaked  off;  sent  over  to  Brandon 
for  the  second  witch;  and  hanged  her,  as  some  small 
comfort  to  his  soul.  Neither  did  he  forget  to  search 
the  cabin,  till  he  found  buried  in  a  crock  the  bits  of 


HEREWARD  THE    WAKE.  411 

his  own  gold  chain,  and  various  other  treasures,  for 
which  the  wretched  old  women  had  bartered  their 
souls.  All  which  he  confiscated  to  his  own'  use,  as 
a  much  injured  man. 

The  next  day  William  withdrew  his  army.  The 
men  refused  to  face  again  that  blood-stained  pass. 
The  English  spells,  they  said,  were  stronger  than 
theirs,  and  than  the  daring  of  brave  men.  Let 
William  take  Torfrida  and  burn  her,  as  she  had 
burned  them,  with  reeds  out  of  Willingham  fen  :  then 
might  they  try  to  storm  Ely  again- 

Torfrida  saw  them  turn,  flee,  die  in  agony.  Her 
work  was  done  ;  her  passion  exhausted  ;  her  self- 
torture,  and  the  mere  weight  of  her  fetters,  which  she 
had  sustained  during  her  passion,  weighed  her  down  ; 
she  dropped  senseless  on  the  turf,  and  lay  in  a  trance 
for  many  hours. 

Then  she  arose,  and  casting  off  her  fetters  and  her 
sackcloth,  was  herself  again  :  but  a  sadder  woman 
till  her  dying  day. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

HOW    KING   WILLIAM    TOOK   COUNSEL   OF   A    CHURCHMAN. 

IF  Torfrida  was  exhausted,  so  was  Hereward  like- 
wise. He  knew  well  that  a  repulse  was  not  a  defeat. 
He  knew  well  the  indomitable  persistence,  the  bound- 
less resources,  of  the  master-mind  whom  he  defied  ; 
and  he  knew  well  that  another  attempt  would  be 
made,  and  then  another  ;  till,  though  it  took  seven 
years  in  the  doing — Ely  would  be  won  at  last.  To 
hold  out  doggedly  as  he  could  was  his  plan  :  to  obtain 
the  best  terms  he  could  for  his  comrades.  And  he 
might  obtain  good  terms  at  last.  William  might 
be  glad  to  pay  a  fair  price  in  order  to  escape  such 
a  thorn  in  his  side  as  the  camp  of  refuge,  and  might 


412  HE  REWARD  THE   WAKE. 

deal — or,  at  least,  promise  to  deal — mercifully  and 
generously  with  the  last  remnant  of  the  English  gentry. 
For  himself,  yield  he  would  not  :  when  all  was  over, 
he  would  flee  to  the  sea,  with  Torfrida  and  his  own 
housecarles,  and  turn  viking ;  or  go  to  Sweyn  Ulfsson 
in  Denmark,  and  die  a  free  man. 

The  English  did  not  foresee  these  things.  Their 
hearts  were  lifted  up  with  their  victory,  and  they 
laughed  at  William  and  his  French,  and  drank 
Torfrida's  health  much  too  often  for  their  own  good. 
Hereward  did  not  care  to  undeceive  them.  But  he 
could  not  help  speaking  his  mind  in  the  abbot's 
chamber  to  Thurstan,  Egelwin,  and  his  nephews, 
and  to  Sigtryg  Ranaldsson,  who  was  still  in  Ely, 
not  only  because  he  had  promised  to  stay  there,  but 
because  he  could  not  get  out  if  he  would. 

Blockaded  they  were  utterly,  by  land  and  water. 
The  isle  furnished  a  fair  supply  of  food  ;  and  what 
was  wanting,  they  obtained  by  foraging.  But  they 
had  laid  the  land  waste  for  so  many  miles  round,  that 
their  plundering  raids  brought  them  in  less  than  of 
old  ;  and  if  they  went  far,  they  fell  in  with  the  French, 
and  lost  good  men,  even  though  they  were  generally 
successful.  So  provisions  were  running  somewhat 
short,  and  would  run  shorter  still. 

Moreover,  there  was  a  great  cause  of  anxiety. 
Bishop  Egelwin,  Abbot  Thurstan,  and  the  monks  of 
Ely  were  in  rebellion,  not  only  against  King  William, 
but  more  or  less  against  the  Pope  of  Rome.  They 
might  be  excommunicated.  The  minster  lands  might 
be  taken  away. 

Bishop  Egelwin  set  his  face  like  a  flint.  He  expected 
no  mercy.  All  he  had  ever  done  for  the  French  was 
to  warn  Robert  Comyn  that  if  he  stayed  in  Durham, 
evil  would  befall  him.  But  that  was  as  little  worth 
to  him  as  it  was  to  the  said  Robert.  And  no  mercy 
he  craved.  The  less  a  man  had,  the  more  fit  he  was 
for  heaven.  He  could  but  die ;  and  that  he  had 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  413 

known  ever  since  he  was  a  chanter-boy.  Whether 
he  died  in  Ely,  or  in  prison,  mattered  little  to  him, 
provided  they  did  not  refuse  him  the  sacraments  ; 
and  that  they  would  hardly  do.  But  call  the  Duke 
of  Normandy  his  rightful  sovereign  he  would  not, 
because  he  was  not — nor  anybody  else  just  now,  as 
far  as  he  could  see. 

Valiant  likewise  was  Abbot  Thurstan,  for  himself. 
But  he  had — unlike  Bishop  Egelwin,  whose  diocese 
had  been  given  to  a  Frenchman — an  abbey,  monks, 
and  broad  lands,  whereof  he  was  father  and  steward. 
And  he  must  do  what  was  best  for  the  abbey,  and  also 
what  the  monks  would  let  him  do.  For  severe  as 
was  the  discipline  of  a  minster  in  time  of  peace,  yet 
in  time  of  war,  when  life  and  death  were  in  question, 
monks  had  ere  now  turned  valiant  from  very  fear, 
like  Cato's  mouse,  and  mutinied  :  and  so  might  the 
monks  of  Ely. 

And  Edwin  and  Morcar  ? 

No  man  knows  what  they  said  or  thought ;  perhaps 
no  man  cared  much,  even  in  their  own  days.  No  hint 
does  any  chronicler  give  of  what  manner  of  men  they 
were,  or  what  manner  of  deeds  they  did.  Fair,  gentle, 
noble,  beloved  even  by  William,  they  are  mere  names, 
and  nothing  more,  in  history  ;  and  it  is  to  be  supposed, 
therefore,  that  they  were  nothing  more  in  fact.  The 
race  of  Leofric  and  Godiva  had  worn  itself  out 

One  night  the  confederates  had  sat  late,  talking 
over  the  future  more  earnestly  than  usual.  Edwin, 
usually  sad  enough,  was  especially  sad  that  night. 

Hereward  jested  with  him,  tried  to  cheer  him  ;  but 
he  was  silent,  would  not  drink,  and  went  away  before 
the  rest. 

The  next  morning  he  was  gone,  and  with  him  half 
a  dozen  of  his  private  housecarles. 

Hereward  was  terrified.  If  defections  once  began, 
they  would  be  endless.  The  camp  would  fall  to  pieces, 
and  every  man  among  them  would  be  hanged, 


4i4  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

mutilated,  or  imprisoned,  one  by  one,  helplessly. 
They  must  stand  or  fall  together. 

He  went  rag-ing  to  Morcar.  Morcar  knows  naught 
of  it.  On  the  faith  and  honour  of  a  knight,  he  knew 
naught.  Only  his  brother  had  said  to  him  a  day  or 
two  before,  that  he  must  see  his  betrothed  before  he 
died. 

"  He  is  gone  to  William,  then  ?  Does  he  think  to 
win  her  now — an  outcast  and  a  beggar — when  he  was 
refused  her  with  broad  lands  and  a  thousand  men 
at  his  back  ?  Fool  !  See  that  thou  play  not  the  fool 
likewise,  nephew,  or " 

"  Or  what  ?  "  said  Morcar  defiantly. 

"  Or  thou  wilt  go,  whither  Edwin  is  gone — to 
betrayal  and  ruin." 

"  Why  so?  He  has  been  kind  enough  to  Waltheof 
and  Gospatric,  why  not  to  Edwin  ?  " 

"Because,"  laughed  Hereward,  "he  wanted 
Waltheof,  and  he  does  not  want  you  and  Edwdn.  He 
can  keep  Mercia  quiet  without  your  help.  Northumbria 
and  the  Fens  he  cannot  without  Waltheofs.  They 
are  a  rougher  set  as  you  go  east  and  north,  as  you 
should  know  already  ;  and  must  have  one  of  them- 
selves over  them  to  keep  them  in  good  humour  for 
awhile.  When  he  has  used  Waltheof  as  his  stalking- 
horse  long  enough  to  build  a  castle  every  ten  miles,  he 
will  throw  him  away  like  a  worn  bowstring,  Earl 
Morcar,  nephew  mine." 

Morcar  shook  his  head. 

In  a  week  more  he  was  gone  likewise.  He  came  to 
William  at  Brandon. 

"You  are  come  in  at  last,  young  earl?"  said 
William  sternly.  "  You  are  come  too  late." 

"  I  throw  myself  on  your  knightly  faith,"  said 
Morcar.  But  he  had  come  in  an  angry  and  unlucky 
hour. 

"  How  well  have  you  kept  your  own,  twice  a  rebel, 
that  you  should  appeal  to  mine  ?  Take  him  away. " 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  415 

"  And  hang  him?  "  asked  Ivo  Taillebois. 

"  Pish  !  No — thou  old  butcher.  Put  him  in  irons, 
and  send  him  into  Normandy." 

"  Send  him  to  Roger  de  Beaumont,  sire.  Roger's 
son  is  safe  in  Morcar's  castle  at  Warwick,  so  it  is  but 
fair  that  Morcar  should  be  safe  in  Roger's." 

And  to  Roger  de  Beaumont  he  was  sent  while 
young  Roger  was  Lord  of  Warwick,  and  all  around 
that  once  was  Leofric  and  Godiva's. 

Morcar  lay  in  a  Norman  keep  till  the  day  of 
William's  death.  On  his  death-bed  the  tyrant's  heart 
smote  him,  and  he  sent  orders  to  release  him.  For  a 
few  short  days  or  hours,  he  breathed  free  air  again. 
Then  Rufus  shut  him  up  once  more,  and  for  ever. 

And  that  was  the  end  of  Earl  Morcar. 

A  few  weeks  after,  three  men  came  to  the  camp  at 
Brandon,  and  they  brought  a  head  to  the  king.  And 
when  William  looked  upon  it,  it  was  the  head  of 
Edwin. 

The  human  heart  must  have  burst  up  again  in  the 
tyrant,  as  he  looked  on  the  fair  face  of  him  he  had  so 
loved,  and  so  wronged;  for  they  say  he  wept. 

The  knights  and  earls  stood  round,  amazed  and 
awed,  as  they  saw  iron  tears  run  down  Pluto's  cheek. 

"  How  came  this  here,  knaves?  "  thundered  he  at 
last. 

They  told  a  rambling  story,  how  Edwin  always 
would  needs  go  to  Winchester,  to  see  the  queen,  for 
she  would  stand  his  friend,  and  do  him  right.  And 
how  they  could  not  get  to  Winchester,  for  fear  of  the 
French,  and  wandered  in  woods  and  wolds;  and  how 
they  were  set  upon,  and  hunted;  and  how  Edwin 
still  was  mad  to  go  to  Winchester :  but  when  he 
could  not,  he  would  go  to  Blethwallon  and  his  Welsh; 
and  how  Earl  Randal  of  Chester  set  upon  them;  and 
how  they  got  between  a  stream  and  the  tide-way  of 
the  Dee,  and  were  cut  off.  And  how  Edwin  would 
not  yield.  And  how  then  they  slew  him  in  self- 


416  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE 

defence,  and  Randal  let  them  bring  the  head  to  the 
king. 

This,  or  something  like  it,  was  their  story.  But 
who  could  believe  traitors?  Where  Edwin  wandered, 
what  he  did  during  those  months,  no  man  knows. 
All  that  is  known  is,  three  men  brought  his  head  to 
William,  and  told  some  such  tale.  And  so  the  old 
nobility  of  England  died  up  and  down  the  ruts  and 
shaughs,  like  wounded  birds;  and,  as  of  wounded 
birds,  none  knew  or  cared  how  far  they  had  run,  or 
how  their  broken  bones  had  ached  before  they  died. 

"  Out  of  their  own  mouths  they  are  condemned, 
says  Holy  Writ,"  thundered  William.  "Hang  them 
on  high." 

And  hanged  on  high  they  were,  on  Brandon  heath. 

Then  the  king  turned  on  his  courtiers,  glad  to  ease 
his  own  conscience  by  cursing  them. 

"This  is  your  doing,  sirs  !  If  I  had  not  listened  to 
your  base  counsels,  Edwin  might  have  been  now  my 
faithful  liegeman  and  my  son-in-law;  and  I  had  had 
one  more  Englishman  left  in  peace,  and  one  sin  less 
upon  my  soul." 

"And  one  thorn  less  in  thy  side,"  quoth  Ivo  Taille- 
bois. 

"Who  spoke  to  thee?  Ralph  Guader,  thou  gavest 
me  the  counsel :  thou  wilt  answer  it  to  God  and  his 
saints." 

"That  I  did  not.     It  was  Earl  Roger,  because  he. I 
wanted  the  man's  Shropshire  lands." 

Whereon  high  words  ensued;  and  the  king  gave 
the  earl  the  lie  in  his  teeth,  which  the  earl  did  not 
forget. 

"I  think,"  said  the  rough  shrewd  voice  of  Ivo,  ' 
"  that  instead  of  crying  over  spilt  milk, — for  milk  the 
lad  was,  and  never  would  have  grown  to  good  beef, 
had  he  lived  to  my  age " 

"Who  spoke  to  thee?" 

"No  man,  and  for  that  reason  I  spoke  myself.    I 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE  417 

have  lands  in  Spalding,  by  your  Royal  grace;  and 
wish  to  enjoy  them  in  peace,  having  worked  for  them 
hard  enough — and  how  can  I  do  that,  as  long  as 
Hereward  sits  in  Ely?" 

"Splendeur  Dex!"  said  William,  "thou  art  right, 
old  butcher." 

So  they  laid  their  heads  together  to  slay  Hereward. 
And  after  they  had  talked  awhile,  then  spoke  William's 
chaplain  for  the  nonce,  an  Italian,  a  friend  and  pupil  of 
Lanfranc  of  Pavia,  an  Italian  also,  then  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  scourging  and  imprisoning  English 
monks  in  the  south.  And  he  spoke  like  an  Italian  of 
those  times,  who  knew  the  ways  of  Rome. 

"If  his  majesty  will  allow  my  humility  to 
suggest " 

"What?  Thy  humility  is  proud  enough  under  the 
rose,  I  will  warrant :  but  it  has  a  Roman  wit  under 
the  rose  likewise.  Speak  ! " 

"That  when  the  secular  and  carnal  arm  has  failed/ 
as  it  is  written1 — He  poureth  contempt  upon  princes, 
and  letteth  them  wander  out  of  the  way  in  the  wilder- 
ness, or  fens; — for  the  Latin  word,  and  I  doubt  not 
the  Hebrew,  has  both  meanings." 

"Splendeur  Dex!"  cried  William  bitterly;  "that 
hath  He  done  with  a  vengeance  !  Thou  art  right  so 
far,  Clerk!" 

"  Yet  helpeth  He  the  poor,  videlicet,  His  church  and 
the  religious,  who  are  vowed  to  holy  poverty,  out  of 
misery,  videlicet,  the  oppression  of  barbarous  customs; 
and  maketh  them  households  like  a  flock  of  sheep." 

"They  do  that  for  themselves  already,  here  in 
England,"  said  William,  with  a  sneer  at  the  fancied 
morals  of  the  English  monks  and  clergy.2 

1 1  do  not  laugh  at  Holy  Scripture  myself,  I  only  insert  this  as  a  specimen  of 
the  usual  mediaeval  "cant" — a  name  and  a  practice  which  are  both  derived,  not 
from  Puritans,  bvt  from  monks. 

*  The  alleged  profligacy  and  sensuality  of  the  English  Church  before  the 

Conquest,  rests  merely  on  a  few  violent  and  vague  expressions  of  the  Norman 

monks  who  displaced  them.    No  facts,  as  far  as  I  can  find,  have  ever  been 

alleged.     And  without  facts  on  the  other  side,  an  impartial  man  will  hold  by 

H.W.  O 


4i8  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

"  But  Heaven  and  the  Church  do  it  for  the  true 
poor,  whom  your  majesty  is  bringing  in,  to  your  end- 
less glory." 

"But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  taking  Ely?" 
asked  William  impatiently.  "  I  asked  thee  for  reason, 
and  not  sermons." 

"  This.  That  it  is  in  the  power  of  the  Holy  Father 
— and  that  power  he  would  doubtless  allow  you,  as 
his  dear  son  and  most  faithful  servant,  to  employ  for 
yourself,  without  sending  to  Rome,  which  might  cause 
painful  delays — to " 

It  might  seem  strange  that  William,  Taillebois, 
Picot,  Guader,  Warrenne,  short-spoken,  hard-headed, 
hard-swearing  warriors,  could  allow  complacently  a 
smooth  churchman  to  dawdle  on  thus,  counting  his 
periods  on  his  fingers,  and  seemingly  never  coming  to 
the  point. 

But  they  knew  well,  that  the  churchman  was  a  far 
cunninger,  as  well  as  a  more  learned,  man  than  them- 
selves. They  knew  well  that  they  could  not  hurry 
him  ;  and  that  they  need  not ;  that  he  would  make  his 
point  at  last,  hunting  it  out  step  by  step,  and  letting 
them  see  how  he  got  thither,  like  a  practised  hound. 
They  knew  that  if  he  spoke,  he  had  thought  long  and 
craftily,  till  he  had  made  up  his  mind ;  and  that  there- 
fore he  would  very  probably  make  up  their  minds 
likewise.  It  was  the  conquest — not  of  a  heavenly 
spirit,  though  it  boasted  itself  such — but  of  a  culti- 
vated mind,  over  brute  flesh. 

They  might  have  said  all  this  aloud,  and  yet  the 
churchman  would  have  gone  on,  as  he  did,  where  he 
left  off,  with  unaltered  blandness  of  tone. 

"To  convert  to  other  uses  the  goods  of  the  Church. 
To  convert  them  to  profane  uses  would,  I  need  not 

die  one  fact  which  is  certain,  that  the  Church  of  England,  popish  as  It  was, 
was,  unfortunately  for  it,  not  popish  enough;  and  from  its  insular  freedom, 
obnoxious  to  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  the  ultramontane  clergy  of  Normandy ; 
and  was  therefore  to  be  believed  capable— and  therefore  again  accused — of  any 
and  every  crime. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  419 

say,  be  a  sacrilege  as  horrible  to  Heaven,  as  impossible 
to  so  pious  a  monarch " 

Ivo  .Taillebois  winced.  He  had  just  stolen  a 
manor  from  the  monks  of  Crowland,  and  meant  to 
keep  it. 

"To  convert,  I  say,  church  lands  belonging  to 
abbeys  or  sees,  whose  abbots  or  bishops  are  con- 
tumaciously disobedient  to  the  Holy  See,  or  to  their 
lawful  monarch,  he  being  in  the  communion  of  the 
Church  and  at  peace  with  the  said  Holy  See.  If,  there- 
fore, to  come  to  that  point  at  which  my  incapacity, 
through  the  devious  windings  of  my  simplicity,  has 
been  tending,  but  with  halting  steps,  from  the  moment 
that  your  majesty  deigned  to  hear -" 

"  Put  in  the  spur,  man  ! "  said  Ivo,  tired  at  last, 
"  and  run  the  deer  to  soil." 

"  Hurry  no  man's  cattle,  especially  thine  own," 
answered  the  churchman,  with  so  shrewd  a  wink,  and 
so  cheery  a  voice,  that  Ivo,  when  he  recovered  from 
his  surprise,  cried  : 

"  Why,  thou  art  a  good  huntsman  thyself,  I  believe 
now." 

"  All  things  to  all  men,  if  by  any  means But  to 

return.  If  your  majesty  should  think  fit  to  proclaim 
to  the  recalcitrants  of  Ely,  that  unless  they  submit 
themselves  to  your  royal  grace — and  to  that,  of 
course,  of  His  Holiness  our  father — within  a  certain 
day,  you  will  convert  to  other  uses— premising,  to 
avoid  scandal,  that  those  uses  shall  be  for  the  benefit 
of  Holy  Church — all  lands  and  manors  of  theirs  lying 
without  the  precincts  of  the  isle  of  Ely — those  lands 
being,  as  is  known,  large  and  of  great  value — Quid 
plura  ?  Why  burden  your  exalted  intellect  by  detail- 
ing to  you  consequences  which  it  has  long  ere  now 
foreseen  ?  " 

"  .  .  .  .  "  quoth  William,  who  was  nearly  as  sharp 
as  the  Italian,  and  had  seen  it  all.  "  I  will  make  thee 
a  bishop  I " 


420  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

"  Spare  to  burden  my  weakness,"  said  the  chaplain  ; 
and  slipt  away  into  the  shade. 

"  You  will  take  his  advice?"  asked  Ivo. 

"I  will." 

"  Then  I  shall  see  that  Torfrida  burn  at  last." 

"  Burn  her  ?  "  and  William  swore. 

"I  promised  my  soldiers  to  burn  the  witch  with 
reeds  out  of  Haddenham  fen,  as  she  had  burned 
them  ;  and  I  must  keep  my  knightly  word." 

William  swore  yet  more.  Ivo  Taillebois  was  a 
butcher  and  a  churl. 

"  Call  me  not  a  butcher  and  a  churl  too  often,  Lord 
King,  ere  thou  hast  found  whether  thou  needest  me  or 
not.  Rough  I  may  be,  false  was  I  never." 

"That  thou  wert  not,"  said  William,  who  needed 
Taillebois  much,  and  feared  him  somewhat ;  and 
remarked  something  meaning  in  his  voice,  which 
made  him  calm  himself,  diplomat  as  he  was,  instantly. 
"  But  burn  Torfrida  thou  shalt  not." 

"  Well,  I  care  not.  I  have  seen  a  woman  burnt 
ere  now,  and  had  no  fancy  for  the  screeching.  Beside, 
they  say  she  is  a  very  fair  dame — and  has  a  fair 
daughter,  too,  coming  on — and  she  may  very  well 
make  a  wife  for  a  Frenchman." 

"  Marry  her  thyself." 

"  I  shall  have  to  kill  this  Wake  first." 

"  Then  do  it,  and  I  will  give  thee  his  lands." 

"  I  may  have  to  kill  others  before  The  Wake." 

"You  may?" 

And  so  the  matter  dropped.  But  William  caught 
Ivo  alone  alter  an  hour,  °.nd  asked  him  what  he  meant. 

"  No  pay,  no  play.  Lord  King,  I  have  served  thee 
well,  rough  and  smooth." 

"Thou  hast,  and  hast  been  well  paid.  But  if  I 
have  said  aught  hasty " 

"Pish,  King.     I  am  a  plain-spoken  man,  and  lik« 
a    plain-spoken    master.     But    instead    of    marryi 
Torfrida  or  her  daughter,  I  have  more  mind  to  he 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  421 

niece,  who  is  younger,  and  has  no  Hereward  to  be 
killed  first." 

"Her  niece?     Who?" 

"  Lucia  as  we  call  her,  Edwin  and  Morcar's  sister, 
Hereward's  niece,  Torfrida's  niece." 

"No  pay,  no  play,  saidst  thou? — so  say  I.  What 
meant  you  by  having  to  kill  others  before  Hereward  ?  " 

"  Beware  of  Waltheof,"  said  Ivo. 

"  Waltheof?  Pish.  This  is  one  of  thy  inventions 
for  making  me  hunt  every  Englishman  to  death,  that 
thou  mayest  gnaw  their  bones." 

"Is  it?  Then  this  I  say  more.  Beware  of  Ralph 
Guader." 

"Pish!" 

"Pish  on,  Lord  King."  Etiquette  was  not  yet 
discovered  by  Norman  barons  and  earls,  who  thought 
themselves  all  but  as  good  as  their  king ;  gave  him 
their  advice  when  they  thought  fit :  and  if  he  did  not 
take  it  attacked  him  with  all  their  meinie.  "  Pish  on, 
but  listen.  Beware  of  Roger." 

' '  And  what  more  ?  " 

"And  give  me  Lucia.  I  want  her.  I  will  have 
her." 

William  laughed.  "Thou  of  all  men?  To  mix 
that  ditch-water  with  that  wine  ?  " 

"They  were  mixed  in  thy  blood,  Lord  King;  and 
thou  art  the  better  man  for  it,  so  says  the  world. 
Old  wine  and  old  blood  throw  any  lees  to  the  bottom 
of  the  cask ;  and  we  shall  have  a  son  worthy  to  ride 
behind " 

"  Take  care  ! "  quoth  William. 

"The  greatest  Captain  upon  earth." 

William  laughed  again,  like  Odin's  self. 

"  Thou  shalt  have  Lucia,  for  that  word." 

"And  thou  shalt  have  the  plot  ere  it  breaks.  As 
it  will." 

"To  this  have  I  come  at  last,"  said  William  to 
himself.  "  To  murder  these  English  nobles  ;  to  marry 


422  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

their  daughters  to  my  grooms.  Heaven  forgive  me  ! 
They  have  brought  it  upon  themselves,  by  contumacy 
to  Holy  Church.  Call  my  secretary,  some  one." 

The  Italian  re-entered. 

"  The  valiant  and  honourable  and  illustrious  knight, 
Ivo  Taillebois,  Lord  of  Holland  and  Kesteven,  weds 
Lucia,  sister  of  the  late  earls  Edwin  and  Morcar,  now 
with  the  queen  ;  and  with  her,  her  manors.  You  will 
prepare  the  papers." 

"  I  am  yours  to  death,"  said  Ivo. 

"  To  do  thee  justice,  I  think  thou  wert  that  already. 
Stay — here — Sir  Priest — do  you  know  any  man  who 
knows  this  Torfrida?" 

"  I  do,  King,"  said  Ivo.  "  There  is  one  Sir  Ascelin, 
a  man  of  Gilbert's,  in  the  camp." 

"  Send  for  him." 

"This  Torfrida,"  said  William,  "haunts  me." 

"  Pray  Heaven  she  have  not  bewitched  your  Grace." 

"Tut,  I  am  too  old  a  campaigner  to  take  much 
harm  by  woman's  sharpshooting,  at  fifteen  score 
yards  off,  beside  a  deep  stream  between.  No.  The 
woman  has  courage — and  beauty  too,  you  say  ?  " 

"  What  of  that,  O  Prince  ?  "  said  the  Italian.  "  Who 
more  beautiful — if  report  be  true — than  those  lost 
women  who  dance  nightly  in  the  forests  with  Venus 
and  Herodias — as  it  may  be  this  Torfrida  has  done 
many  a  time  ?  " 

"  You  priests  are  apt  to  be  hard  upon  poor  women." 

"  The  fox  found  that  the  grapes  were  sour,"  said 
the  Italian,  laughing  at  himself  and  his  cloth — or  at 
anything  else,  by  which  he  could  curry  favour. 

"And  this  woman  was  no  vulgar  witch.  That 
sort  of  personage  suits  Taillebois'  taste,  rather  than 
Hereward's." 

"  Hungry  dogs  eat  dirty  pudding,"  said  Ivo 
pertinently. 

"The  woman  believed  herself  in  the  right.  She 
believed  that  the  saints  of  heaven  were  on  her  side. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  423 

I  saw  it  in  her  attitude,  in  her  gestures.  Perhaps  she 
was  right." 

"  Sire?  "  said  both  bystanders  in  astonishment. 

"  I  would  fain  see  that  woman;  and  see  her  husband 
too.  They  are  folks  after  my  own  heart.  I  would 
give  them  an  earldom  to  win  them." 

"  I  hope  that  in  that  day  you  will  allow  your  faithful 
servant  Ivo  to  retire  to  his  ancestral  manors  in  Anjou; 
for  England  will  be  too  hot  for  him.  Sire,  you  know 
not  this  man — a  liar,  a  bully,  a  robber,  a  swash- 
buckling ruffian,  who "  and  Ivo  ran  on  with 

furious  invective,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Normans, 
who  considered  no  name  too  bad  for  an  English  rebel. 

"  Sir  Ascelin,"  said  William,  as  Ascelin  came  in, 
"  you  know  Here  ward?  " 

Ascelin  bowed  assent. 

"  Are  these  things  true  which  Ivo  alleges?  " 

"  The  Lord  Taillebois  may  know  best  what  manner 
of  man  Sir  Hereward  has  become  since  he  himself 
came  into  this  English  air,  which  changes  some  folks 
mightily,"  with  a  hardly  disguised  sneer  at  Ivo;  "  but 
in  Flanders  he  was  a  very  perfect  knight,  beloved  and 
honoured  of  all  men,  and  especially  of  your  father-in- 
law,  the  great  marquis." 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  yours,  then?  " 

"  No  man  less.  I  owe  him  more  than  one  grudge, 
though  all  in  fair  quarrel;  and  one  at  least,  which 
can  only  be  wiped  out  in  blood." 

"Eh.    What?" 

Ascelin  hesitated. 

"  Tell  me,  sir  !  "  thundered  William,  "  unless  you 
have  aught  to  be  ashamed  of." 

"  It  is  no  shame,  as  far  as  I  know,  to  confess  that  I 
was  once  a  suitor,  as  were  all  knights  for  miles  round, 
for  the  hand  of  the  once  peerless  Torfrida.  And  no 
shame  to  confess,  that  when  Hereward  knew  thereof, 
he  sought  me  out  at  a  tournament,  and  served  me 
as  he  has  served  many  a  better  man  before  and  since." 


424  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"  Over  thy  horse's  croup,  eh  ?  "  said  William. 

"  I  am  not  a  bad  horseman,  as  all  know,  Lord  King-. 
But  Heaven  save  me,  and  all  I  love,  from  that  Hereward. 
They  say  he  has  seven  men's  strength,  and  I  verily 
can  testify  to  the  truth  thereof." 

"That  may  be  by  enchantment,"  interposed  the 
Italian. 

"True,  Sir  Priest.  This  I  know,  that  he  wears 
enchanted  armour,  which  Torfrida  gave  him  before 
she  married  him." 

"  Enchantments  again,"  said  the  secretary. 

"  Tell  me  now  about  Torfrida,"  said  William. 

Ascelin  told  him  all  about  her,  not  forgetting  to  say 
— what,  according  to  the  chronicler,  was  a  common 
report — that  she  had  compassed  Hereward's  love  by 
magic  arts.  She  used  to  practise  sorcery,  he  said, 
with  her  sorceress  mistress,  Richilda  of  Hainault.  All 
men  knew  it.  Arnoul,  Richilda's  son,  was  as  a  brother 
to  her.  And  after  old  Baldwin  died,  and  Baldwin  of 
Mons  and  Richilda  came  to  Bruges,  Torfrida  was 
always  with  her,  while  Hereward  was  at  the  wars. 

"The  woman  is  a  manifest  and  notorious  witch," 
said  the  secretary. 

"  It  seems  so  indeed,"  said  William,  with  some- 
thing like  a  sigh.  And  so  were  Torfrida's  early  follies 
visited  on  her;  as  all  early  follies  are.  "But 
Hereward,  you  say,  is  a  good  knight  and  true  ?  " 

' '  Doubtless.  Even  when  he  committed  that  great 
crime  at  Peterborough " 

"  For  which  he  and  all  his  are  duly  excommuni- 
cated by  the  Bishop,"  said  the  secretary. 

"  He  did  a  very  courteous  and  honourable  thing. " 
And  Ascelin  told  how  he  had  saved  Alftruda,  and 
instead  of  putting  her  to  ransom,  had  sent  her  safe 
to  Gilbert. 

"A  very  knightly  deed.  He  should  be  rewarded 
for  it." 

"  Why  not  burn  the  witch    and  reward  him  with 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  425 

Alftruda  instead,  since  your  majesty  is  in  so  gracious 
a  humour  ?  "  said  Ivo. 

"Alftruda?  Who  is  she?  Ay,  I  recollect  her. 
Young  Dolfin's  wife.  Why,  she  has  a  husband 
already." 

"Ay,  but  his  Holiness  at  Rome  can  set  that  right. 
What  is  there  that  he  cannot  do  ?  " 

"  There  are  limits,  I  fear,  even  to  his  power.  Eh, 
priest  ?  " 

"What  his  Holiness'  powers  as  the  viceroy  of 
Divinity  op  earth  might  be,  did  he  so  choose,  it  were 
irreverent  to  inquire.  But  as  he  condescends  to  use 
that  power  only  for  the  good  of  mankind,  he  con- 
descends, like  Divinity,  to  be  bound  by  the  very  laws 
which  he  has  promulgated  for  the  benefit  of  his 
subjects  ;  and  to  make  himself  only  a  life-giving  sun, 
when  he  might  be  a  destructive  thunderbolt." 

"  He  is  very  kind,  and  we  all  owe  him  thanks,"  said 
Ivo,  who  had  a  confused  notion  that  the  Pope  might 
strike  him  dead  with  lightning,  but  was  good-natured 
enough  not  to  do  so.  "  Still,  he  might  think  of  this 
plan  ;  for  they  say  that  the  lady  is  an  old  friend  of 
Hereward's,  and  not  over  fond  of  her  Scotch  husband." 

"  That  I  know  well,"  said  William. 

"  And  beside — if  aught  untoward  should  happen  to 
Dolfin  and  his  kin " 

"She  might,  with  her  broad  lands,  be  a  fine  bait 
for  Hereward.  I  see.  Now,  do  this,  by  my  com- 
mand. Send  a  trusty  monk  into  Ely.  Let  him  tell 
the  monks  that  we  have  determined  to  seize  all  their 
outlying  lands,  unless  they  surrender  within  the  week. 
And  let  him  tell  Hereward,  by  the  faith  and  oath  of 
William  of  Normandy,  that  if  he  will  surrender  him- 
self to  my  grace,  he  shall  have  his  lands  in  Bourne, 
and  a  free  pardon  for  himself  and  all  his  comrades." 

The  men  assented,  much  against  their  will,  and 
went  out  on  their  errand. 

"You   have  played  me  a  scurvy   trick,    sir,"   said 


426  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

Ascelin  to  Ivo,  "  in  advising  the  king  to  give  the 
Lady  Alftruda  to  Hereward." 

"What!  Did  you  want  her  yourself?  On  my 
honour  I  knew  not  of  it.  But  have  patience.  You 
shall  have  her  yet,  and  all  her  lands,  if  you  will  hear 
my  counsel  and  keep  it." 

"  But  you  would  give  her  to  Hereward  !  " 

"  And  to  you  too.  It  is  a  poor  bait,  say  these 
frogs  of  fenmen,  that  will  not  take  two  pike  running. 
Listen  to  me.  I  must  kill  this  accursed  fox  of  a 
Wake.  I  hate  him.  I  cannot  eat  my  meat  for 
thinking  of  him.  Kill  him  I  must." 

"  And  so  must  I." 

"  Then  we  are  both  agreed.  Let  us  work  together, 
and  never  mind  if  one's  blood  be  old  and  the  other's 
new.  I  am  neither  fool  nor  weakly,  as  thou  knowest." 

Ascelin  could  not  but  assent. 

"  Then  here.  We  must  send  the  King's  message. 
But  we  must  add  to  it." 

"  That  is  dangerous." 

"So  is  war;  so  is  eating,  drinking;  so  is  every- 
thing. But  we  must  not  let  The  Wake  come  in.  We 
must  drive  him  to  despair.  Make  the  messenger  add 
but  one  word — that  the  king  exempts  from  the 

amnesty  Torfrida,  on  account  of You  can  put  i1 

into  more  scholarly  shape  than  I  can." 

"  On  account  of  her  abominable  and  notorious 
sorceries;  and  demands  that  she  shall  be  given  up 
forthwith,  to  be  judged  as  she  deserves." 

"  Just  so.  And  then  for  a  load  of  reeds  out  o: 
Haddenham  Fen  !  " 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  said  Ascelin,  who  had  loved  her 
once.  "  Would  not  perpetual  imprisonment  suffice?  ' 

"What  care   I?     That  is  the   King's  affair,   nol 
ours.     But  I  fear  we  shall  not  get  her.     Even  so 
Hereward  will  flee  with  her — maybe  escape  to  Flanders 
or  Denmark.    He  can  escape  through  a  rat's  hole  iJ 
he  will.     However,  then  we  are  at  peace.     I  ha<3 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  427 

sooner  kill  him  and  have  done  with  it :  but  out  of 
the  way  he  must  be  put." 

So  they  sent  a  monk  in  with  the  message ;  and 
commanded  him  to  tell  the  article  about  the  Lady 
Torfrida,  not  only  to  Hereward,  but  to  the  abbot  and 
all  the  monks. 

A  curt  and  fierce  answer  came  back,  not  from  Here- 
ward,  but  from  Torfrida  herself — that  William  of 
Normandy  was  no  knight  himself,  or  he  would  not 
offer  a  knight  his  life,  on  condition  of  burning  his  lady. 

William  swore  horribly.  "  What  is  all  this  about  ?  " 
They  told  him — as  much  as  they  chose  to  tell  him. 
He  was  very  wroth.  "  Who  was  Ivo  Taillebois,  to 
add  to  his  message?  He  had  said  that  Torfrida 
should  not  burn."  Taillebois  was  stout ;  for  he  had 
won  the  secretary  over  to  his  side  meanwhile.  He 
had  said  nothing  about  burning.  He  had  merely 
supplied  an  oversight  of  the  King's.  The  woman, 
as  the  secretary  knew,  could  not,  with  all  deference 
to  his  majesty,  be  included  in  an  amnesty.  She  was 
liable  to  ecclesiastical  censure,  and  the  ecclesiastical 
courts. 

"  Ecclesiastical  courts  ?  What  is  this  new  doctrine, 
Churchman  ?  "  asked  William. 

"The  superstition  of  sorcery,  my  Lord  King,  is 
neither  more  nor  less  than  that  of  heresy  itself ;  seeing 
that  the  demons  whom  it  invokes  are  none  other  than 
the  old  Pagan  gods  :  and  as  heresy " 

William  exploded  with  fearful  oaths.  He  was 
always  jealous  (and  wisely),  for  his  own  prerogatives. 
And  the  doctrine  was  novel,  at  least  in  England. 
Witches  were  here  considered  as  offenders  against  the 
private  person  enchanted,  rather  than  against  the 
Church  ;  and  executions  for  witchcraft  rarely,  if  ever, 
took  place,  unless  when  the  witch  was  supposed  to 
have  injured  life  or  property. 

"  Have  I  not  given  you  Churchmen  enough  already, 
that  you  must  assume  my  King's  power  of  life  and 


428  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

death  ?  Do  I  not  slay  and  torment  enough,  Heaven 
forgive  me  !  without  needing  you  to  help  me  ?  " 

The  Italian  saw  that  he  had  gone  too  far.  "  Heaven 
forbid,"  he  said,  "that  the  Church  should  stain  her 
hands  with  the  blood  of  the  worst  of  sinners.  All  she 
could  do  was,  having  proved  guilt,  to  deliver  the 
offender  over  to  the  secular  arm,  doubtless  with 
merciful  entreaties  that  there  might  be  no  shedding 
of  blood." 

"There  is  none,  I  presume,  when  folks  are  burned 
alive,"  quoth  William,  with  a  sneer.  "So  you  are 
to  be  the  judges,  and  me  your  executioner,  eh? 
An  honourable  office,  truly.  Beware,  Sir  Clerk ! 
Beware ! " 

"  If  the  fire  of  my  zeal  has  for  a  moment  too  rashly 
melted  the  ice  of  my  modesty " 

"Of  thy  craft,  say " 

"My  humility  humbly  entreats  forgiveness.  I  do 
not  press  the  matter.  Only  it  seemed — it  seemed  at 
least  to  me,  that  after  the  slight  scandal — forgive  my 
fidelity  the  word — to  the  faithful  caused  by  your 
highness's  unhappy  employment  of  the  witch  of 
Brandon " 

William  cursed  under  his  breath. 

"Your  highness  might  nobly  atone  therefor,  by 
executing  justice  on  a  far  more  flagitious  offender, 
who  has  openly  compassed  and  effected  the  death  of 
hundreds  of  your  highness's  otherwise  invincible 
warriors " 

"And  throw  good  money  after  bad,"  said  William, 
laughing.  "  I  tell  thee,  priest,  she  is  too  pretty  to 
burn,  were  she  the  Witch  of  Endor  herself." 

"Be  it  so.  Your  royal  clemency  can  always  remit 
her  sentence,  even  so  far  as  to  pardon  her  entirely,  if 
your  merciful  temper  should  so  incline  you.  But 
meanwhile,  what  better  could  we  have  done,  than  to 
remind  the  monks  of  Ely  that  she  was  a  sorceress ; 
that  she  had  committed  grave  crimes,  and  was  liable 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  429 

to  punishment  herself,  and  they  to  punishment  also, 
as  her  shelterers  and  accomplices?  " 

"  What  your  highness  wanted,"  quoth  Taillebois, 
"  was  to  bring  over  the  monks;  and  I  believe  that 
message  had  been  a  good  stroke  toward  that.  As  for 
Hereward,  you  need  not  think  of  him.  He  never  will 
come  in  alive.  He  has  sworn  an  oath,  and  he  will 
keep  it." 

And  so  the  matter  ended. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

HOW   THE    MONKS    OF   ELY   DID   AFTER    THEIR    KIND. 

WILLIAM'S  bolt,  or  rather  inextinguishable  Greek  fire, 
could  not  have  fallen  into  Ely  at  a  more  propitious 
moment. 

Hereward  was  away,  with  a  large  body  of  men,  and 
many  ships,  foraging  in  the  north-eastern  fens.  He 
might  not  be  back  for  a  week. 

Abbot  Thurstan — for  what  cause  is  not  said — had 
lost  heart  a  little  while  before,  and  fled  to  "  Angerhale, 
taking  with  him  the  ornaments  and  treasure  of  the 
church." 

Hereward  had  discovered  his  flight  with  deadly 
fear :  but  provisions  he  must  have,  and  forth  he  must 
go,  leaving  Ely  in  charge  of  half  a  dozen  independent 
English  gentlemen,  each  of  whom  would  needs  have 
his  own  way,  just  because  it  was  his  own. 

Only  Torfrida  he  took,  and  put  her  hand  into  the 
hand  of  Sigtryg  Ranaldsson,  and  said,  "Thou  true 
comrade  and  perfect  knight,  as  I  did  by  thy  wife,  do 
thou  by  mine,  if  aught  befall." 

And  Sigtryg  swore  first  by  the  white  Christ,  and 
then  by  the  head  of  Sleipnir,  Odin's  horse,  that  he 
would  stand  by  Torfrida  till  the  last ;  and  then,  if 
need  was.  slay  her. 


430  HERE  WARD   THE  WAKE. 

"You  will  not  need,  King-  Sigtryg.  I  can  slay 
myself,"  said  she,  as  she  took  the  Ost-Dane's  hard 
honest  hand. 

And  Hereward  went,  seemingly  by  Mepal  or  Sutton. 
Then  came  the  message  ;  and  all  men  in  Ely  knew  it. 

Torfrida  stormed  down  to  the  monks,  in  honest 
indignation,  to  demand  that  they  should  send  to 
William,  and  purge  her  of  her  calumny.  She  found 
the  Chapter-door  barred  and  bolted.  They  were  all 
gabbling  inside,  like  starlings  on  a  foggy  morning, 
and  would  not  let  her  in.  She  hurried  back  to 
Sigtryg,  fearing  treason,  and  foreseeing  the  effect  of 
the  message  upon  the  monks. 

But  what  could  Sigtryg  do?  To  find  out  their 
counsels  was  impossible  for  him,  or  any  man  in  Ely. 
For  the  monks  could  talk  Latin,  and  the  men  could 
not.  Torfrida  alone  knew  the  sacred  tongue. 

If  Torfrida  could  but  listen  at  the  keyhole.  Well — all 
was  fair  in  war.  And  to  the  Chapter-house  door  she 
went,  guarded  by  Sigtryg  and  some  of  his  housecarles  ; 
and  listened,  with  a  beating  heart.  She  heard  words 
now  incomprehensible.  That  men  who  most  of  them 
lived  no  better  than  their  own  serfs  ;  who  could  have 
no  amount  of  wealth,  not  even  the  hope  of  leaving 
that  wealth  to  their  children — that  such  men  should 
cling  to  wealth  ;  struggle,  forge,  lie,  do  anything  for 
wealth,  to  be  used  almost  entirely  not  for  themselves, 
but  for  the  honour  and  glory  of  the  convent — indicates 
an  intensity  of  corporate  feeling,  unknown  in  the 
outer  world  then,  or  now. 

The  monastery  would  be  ruined.  Without  this 
manor,  without  that  wood,  without  that  stone  quarry, 
that  fishery, — what  would  become  of  them  ? 

But  mingled  with  those  words  were  other  words, 
unfortunately  more  intelligible  to  this  day — those  of 
superstition. 

What  would  St.  Etheldreda  say?  What  St. 
Sexburga,  St.  Withburga,  St.  Ermenilda?  How 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  431 

dare  they  provoke  their  wrath  ?  Would  they  submit 
to  lose  their  lands?  They  might  do — what  might 
they  not  do  ?  Their  bones  would  refuse  ever  to  work 
a  miracle  again.  They  had  been  but  too  slack  in 
miracle-working  for  many  years.  They  might  strike 
the  isle  with  barrenness,  the  minster  with  lightning. 
They  might  send  a  flood  up  the  fens.  They 
might 

William  the  Norman,  to  do  them  justice,  those 
valiant  monks  feared  not ;  for  he  was  man,  and  could 
but  killy  the  body.  But  St.  Etheldreda,  a  virgin 
goddess,  with  her  three  maidens,  and  indeed,  all  the 
host  of  heaven  to  back  her  —  might  she  not,  by 
intercession  with  powers  still  higher  than  her  own, 
destroy  both  body  and  soul  in  hell  ? 

"We  are  betrayed.  They  are  going  to  send  for 
the  Abbot  from  Angerhale,"  said  Torfrida  at  last, 
reeling  from  the  door.  **  All  is  lost." 

"  Shall  we  burst  open  the  door  and  kill  them  all?  " 
asked  Sigtryg  simply. 

"No,  King — no.  They  are  God's  men;  and  we 
have  blood  enough  on  our  souls." 

"  We  can  keep  the  gates,  lest  any  go  out  to  the 
King." 

"  Impossible.  They  know  the  isle  better  than  we, 
and  have  a  thousand  arts." 

So  all  they  could  do  was  to  wait  in  fear  and 
trembling1  for  Hereward's  return,  and  send  Martin 
Lightfoot  off  to  warn  him,  wherever  he  might  be. 

The  monks  remained  perfectly  quiet.  The  organ 
droned,  the  chants  wailed,  as  usual ;  nothing 
interrupted  the  stated  order  of  the  services ;  and  in 
the  hall,  each  day,  they  met  the  knights  as  cheerfully 
as  ever.  Greed  and  superstition  had  made  cowards 
of  them — and  now  traitors. 

It  was  whispered  that  Abbot  Thurstan  had  returned 
to  the  minster:  but  no  man  saw  him:  and  so  three 
or  four  days  went  on. 


432  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE 

Martin  found  Hereward  after  incredible  labours, 
and  told  him  all,  clearly  and  shrewdly.  The  man's 
manifest  insanity  only  seemed  to  quicken  his  wit,  and 
increase  his  powers  of  bodily  endurance. 

Hereward  was  already  on  his  way  home;  and 
never  did  he  and  his  good  men  row  harder  than  they 
rowed  that  day  back  to  Sutton.  He  landed,  and 
hurried  on  with  half  his  men,  leaving  the  rest  to  dis- 
embark the  booty.  He  was  anxious  as  to  the  temper 
of  the  monks.  He  foresaw  all  that  Torfrida  had  fore- 
seen. And  as  for  Torfrida  herself,  he  was  half  mad. 
Ivo  Taillebois'  addition  to  William's  message  had  had 
its  due  effect.  He  vowed  even  deadlier  hate  against 
the  Frenchman  than  he  had  ever  felt  before.  He 
ascended  the  heights  to  Sutton.  It  was  his  shortest 
way  to  Ely.  He  could  not  see  Aldreth  from  thence : 
but  he  could  see  Willingham  field,  and  Belsar's  hills, 
round  the  corner  of  Haddenham  Hill. 

The  sun  was  setting  long  before  they  reached  Ely : 
but  just  as  he  sank  into  the  western  fen,  Winter 
stopped,  pointing. — Was  that  the  flash  of  arms? 
There,  far  away,  just  below  Willingham  town.  Or 
was  it  the  setting  sun  upon  the  ripple  of  some  long 
water  ? 

"There  is  not  wind  enough  for  such  a  ripple,"  said 
one.  But  ere  they  could  satisfy  themselves,  the  sun 
was  down,  and  all  the  fen  was  gray. 

Hereward  was  still  more  uneasy.  If  that  had  been 
the  flash  of  arms,  it  must  have  come  off  a  very  large 
body  of  men,  moving  in  column,  on  the  road  between 
Cambridge  and  Ely.  He  hastened  on  his  men.  But 
ere  they  were  within  sight  of  the  minster-tower,  they 
were  aware  of  a  horse  galloping  violently  towards 
them  through  the  dusk.  Hereward  called  a  halt. 
He  heard  his  own  heart  beat  as  he  stopped.  The 
horse  was  pulled  up  short  among  them.  On  its  back 
was  a  lad,  with  a  smaller  boy  behind  him,  clasping 
his  waist. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE  433 

"Hereward?  Thank  God,  I  am  in  time  !  '  And  the 
child  is  safe  too.  Thanks,  thanks,  dear  saints  ! "  a 
voice  sobbed  out. 

It  was  the  voice  of  Torfrida. 

"Treason!"  she  gasped. 

"I  knew  it." 

"The  French  are  in  the  island.  They  have  got 
Aldreth.  The  whole  army  is  marching  from 
Cambridge.  The  whole  fleet  is  coming  up  from 
Southrey.  And  you  have  time " 

"To  burn  Ely  over  the  monks'  heads.  Men  !  Get 
bogwood  out  of  yon  cottage,  make  yourselves  torches, 
and  onward  ! " 

Then  rose  a  babel  of  questions,  which  Torfrida 
answered  as  she  could.  But  she  had  nothing  to  tell. 
"Clerks'  cunning,"  she  said  bitterly,  "was  an  ove*- 
match  for  woman's  wit."  She  had  sent  out  a  spy : 
but  he  had  not  returned  till  an  hour  since.  Then  he 
came  back  breathless,  with  the  news  that  the  French 
army  was  on  the  march  from  Cambridge,  and  that,  as 
he  came  over  the  water  at  Aldreth,  he  found  a  party 
of  French  knights  in  the  fort  on  the  Ely  side,  talking 
peaceably  with  the  monks  on  guard. 

She  had  run  up  to  the  borough  hill — which  men  call 
Cherry  Hill  at  this  day — and  one  look  to  the  north- 
east had  shown  her  the  river  swarming  with  ships. 
She  had  rushed  home,  put  boys'  clothes  on  herself 
and  her  child,  hid  a  few  jewels  in  her  bosom,  saddled 
Swallow,  and  ridden  for  her  life  thither. 

"And  King  Sigtryg?" 

He  and  his  men  had  gone  desperately  out  towards 
Haddenham,  with  what  English  they  could  muster : 
but  all  were  in  confusion.  Some  were  getting  the 
women  and  children  into  boats,  to  hide  them  in  the 
reeds;  others  battering  the  minster  gates,  vowing 
vengeance  on  the  monks. 

"Then  Sigtryg  will  be  cut  off  I  Alas  for  the  day 
that  ever  brought  his  brave  heart  hither  ! " 


434  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

And  when  the  men  heard  that,  a  yell  ot  fury  and 
despair  burst  from  all  throats. 

Should  they  go  back  to  their  boats  ? 

"  No  !  onward,"  cried  Hereward.  "  Revenge  first, 
and  safety  after.  Let  us  leave  nothing1  for  the  accursed 
Frenchmen  but  smoking-  ruins,  and  then  gather  our 
comrades,  and  cut  our  way  back  to  the  north." 

"  Good  counsel,"  cried  Winter.  "  We  know  the 
roads,  and  they  do  not ;  and  in  such  a  dark  night  as 
is  coming,  we  can  march  out  of  the  island  without 
their  being  able  to  follow  us  a  mile." 

They  hurried  on  :  but  stopped  once  more,  at  the 
galloping  of  another  horse. 

"  Who  comes,  friend  or  foe? " 

"Alwyn,  son  of  Orgar!"  cried  a  voice  under 
breath.  "  Don't  make  such  a  noise,  men !  The 
French  are  within  half  a  mile  of  you." 

"Then  one  traitor  monk  shall  die  ere  I  retreat,' 
cried  Hereward,  seizing  him  by  the  throat. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  hold  !  "  cried  Torfrida,  seizing 
his  arm.  "  You  know  not  what  he  may  have  to  say." 

"  I  am  no  traitor,  Hereward ;    I   have  fought  b) 
your  side  as  well  as  the  best ;  and  if  any  but  you 
called  Alwyn " 

"  A  curse  on  your  boasting.     Tell  us  the  truth." 

"  The  Abbot  has  made  peace  with  the  King.     H< 
would  give  up  the  island,  and  St.  Etheldreda  shoulc 
keep  all  her  lands  and  honours.     I  said  what  I  could 
but  who  was  I  to  resist  the  whole  chapter  ?     Could 
alone  brave  St.  Etheldreda's  wrath  ?  " 

"  Alwyn,  the  valiant,  afraid  of  a  dead  girl ! " 

"  Blaspheme  not,  Hereward  !  She  may  hear  you 
at  this  moment !  Look  there  !  "  and  pointing  up,  the 
monk  cowered  in  terror,  as  a  meteor  flashed  through 
the  sky. 

"  That  is  St.  Etheldreda  shooting  at  us,  eh  ?  Then 
all  I  can  say  is,  she  is  a  very  bad  marksman.  And 
the  French  are  in  the  island  ?  " 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  435 

"They  are." 

"  Then  forward,  men,  for  one  half-hour's  pleasure  ; 
and  then  to  die  like  Englishmen." 

"On?"  cried  Alwyn.  "You  cannot  go  on.  The 
King  is  at  Whichford  at  this  moment  with  all  his 
army,  half  a  mile  off !  Right  across  the  road  to  Ely  '  " 

Hereward  grew  Berserk.  "  On  !  men  ! "  shouted  he, 
"we  shall  kill  a  few  Frenchmen  apiece  before  we  die  ! " 

"  Hereward,"  cried  Torfrida,  "you  shall  not  go  on  ! 
If  you  go,  I  shall  be  taken.  And  if  I  am  taken, 
I  shall  be  burned.  And  I  cannot  burn — I  cannot !  I 
shall  go  mad  with  terror  before  I  come  to  the  stake. 
I  cannot  go  stript  to  my  smock  before  those  French- 
men. I  cannot  be  roasted  piecemeal  1  Hereward, 
take  me  away !  Take  me  away !  or  kill  me,  now 
and  here  !  " 

He  paused.  He  had  never  seen  Torfrida  thus  over- 
come. 

"  Let  us  flee!  The  stars  are  against  us.  God  is 
against  us  !  Let  us  hide — escape  abroad  :  beg  our 
bread,  go  on  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem  together — for 
together  it  must  be  always  :  but  take  me  away ! " 

"  We  will  go  back  to  the  boats,  men,"  said  Here- 
ward. 

But  they  did  not  go.  They  stood  there,  irresolute, 
looking  towards  Ely. 

The  sky  was  pitchy  dark.  The  minster-roofs,  lying 
north-east,  were  utterly  invisible  against  the  blackness. 

"  We  may  at  least  save  some  who  escape  out,"  said 
Hereward.  "  March  on  quickly  to  the  left,  under  the 
hill  to  the  plough-field." 

They  did  so. 

"  Lie  down,  men.  There  are  the  French,  close  on 
our  right.  Down  among  the  bushes." 

And  they  heard  the  heavy  tramp  of  men  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile. 

"  Cov-er  the  mare's  eyes,  and  hold  her  mouth,  lest 
she  neigh,"  said  Winter. 


436  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

Hereward  and  Torfrida  lay  side  by  side  upon  the 
heath.  She  was  shivering  with  cold  and  horror.  He 
laid  his  cloak  over  her  ;  put  his  arm  round  her. 

"Your  stars  did  not  foretell  you  this,  Torfrida." 
He  spoke  not  bitterly,  but  in  utter  sadness. 

She  burst  into  an  agony  of  weeping. 

"  My  stars  at  least  foretold  me  nothing  but  woe, 
since  first  I  saw  your  face." 

' '  Why  did  you  marry  me,  then  ?  "  asked  he  half 
angrily. 

"  Because  I  loved  you.     Because  I  love  you  still." 

"Then  you  do  not  regret  ?  " 

"Never,  never,  never!  I  am  quite  happy — quite 
happy.  Why  not  ?  " 

A  low  murmur  from  the  men  made  them  look  up. 
They  were  near  enough  to  the  town  to  hear — only  too 
much.  They  heard  the  tramp  of  men,  shouts  and 
yells.  Then  the  shrill  cries  of  women.  All  dull  and 
muffled  the  sounds  came  to  them  through  the  still 
night ;  and  they  lay  there  spell-bound,  as  in  a  night- 
mare, as  men  assisting  at  some  horrible  tragedy, 
which  they  had  no  power  to  prevent.  Then  there  was 
a  glare,  and  a  wisp  of  smoke  against  the  black  sky, 
and  then  a  house  began  burning  brightly,  and  then 
another. 

"This  is  the  Frenchman's  faith!" 

And  all  the  while,  as  the  sack  raged  in  the  town 
below,  the  minster  stood  above,  glaring  in  the  fire- 
light, silent  and  safe.  The  church  had  provided  for 
herself,  by  sacrificing  the  children  beneath  her  foster- 
ing shadow. 

They  waited  nearly  an  hour,  but  no  fugitives  came 
out. 

"Come,  men,"  said  Hereward  wearily,  "we  may 
as  well  to  the  boats." 

And  so  they  went,  walking  on  like  men  in  a  dream, 
as  yet  too  stunned  to  realise  to  themselves  the  hopeless 
horror  of  their  situation.  Only  Hereward  and  Torfrida 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  437 

saw  it  all,  looking  back  on  the  splendid  past — the 
splendid  hopes  for  the  future :  glory,  honour,  an 
earldom,  a  free  Danish  England — and  this  was  all 
that  was  left ! 

"No,  it  is  not!"  cried  Torfrida  suddenly,  as  it 
answering  her  own  unspoken  thoughts,  and  his. 
"  Love  is  still  left.  The  gallows  and  the  stake 
cannot  take  that  away."  And  she  clung  closer  to 
her  husband's  side,  and  he  again  to  hers. 

They  reached  the  shore,  and  told  their  tale  to  their 
comrades.  Whither  now  ? 

"  To  Well.     To  the  wide  mere," '  said  Hereward. 

11  But  their  ships  will  hunt  us  out  there." 

"  We  shall  need  no  hunting.  We  must  pick  up  the 
men  at  Cissham.  You  would  not  leave  them  to  be 
murdered,  too,  as  we  have  left  the  Ely  men  ?  " 

No.     They  would  go  to  Well.     And  then  ? 

"The  Bruneswald,  and  the  merry  greenwood,"  said 
Hereward. 

"  Hey  for  the  merry  greenwood  !  "  shouted  Leofric 
the  Deacon.  And  the  men,  in  the  sudden  delight  of 
finding  any  place,  any  purpose,  answered  with  a  lusty 
cheer. 

"Brave  hearts!"  said  Hereward.  "We  will  live 
and  die  together  like  Englishmen." 

"  We  will,  we  will,  Viking." 

"Where  shall  we  stow  the  mare?"  asked  Gery, 
"  the  boats  are  full  already." 

"  Leave  her  to  me.     On  board,  Torfrida." 

He  got  on  board  last,  leading  the  mare  by  the 
bridle. 

"Swim,  good  lass!"  said  he,  as  they  pushed  off; 
and  the  good  lass,  who  had  done  it  many  a  time 

1  Probably  near  Upwell  and  Outwell,  in  the  direction  ot  Wisbeach.  There 
the  old  Nene  and  the  old  Welney  Rivers  joining,  formed  vast  morasses,  now 
laid  dry  by  the  Middle  Level  and  Marshland  Drains.  The  bursting  of  the 
Middle  Level  Sluice  in  the  year  1861,  restored  for  awhile  a  vast  tract  in  these 
fens  to  its  primseval  state  of  "  the  Wide  Mere."  From  this  point  Hereward 
could  escape  north  into  Lincolnshire,  either  W'Wjsbsach  a™  tl»e  Wa*b,  or 
by  Crowland  and  Bourne. 


438  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

before,  waded  in,  and  was  soon  swimming-  behind. 
Hereward  turned,  and  bent  over  the  side  in  the 
darkness.  There  was  a  strange  gurgle,  a  splash, 
and  a  swirl.  He  turned  round,  and  sat  upright 
again.  They  rowed  on. 

"That  mare  will  never  swim  all  the  way  to  Well," 
said  one. 

"  She  will  not  need  it,"  said  Hereward. 

"Why?"  said  Torfrida,  feeling  in  the  darkness, 
"she  is  loose.  What  is  this  in  your  hand?  Your 
dagger  ?  and  wet  ?  " 

"  Mare  Swallow  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  reach.  We 
could  never  have  got  her  to  Well." 

"  And  you  have "  cried  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  would  let  a  cursed  French- 
man—  ay,  even  William's  self — say  that  he  had 
bestridden  Hereward's  mare  ?  " 

None  answered  :  but  Torfrida,  as  she  laid  her  head 
upon  her  husband's  bosom,  felt  the  great  tears  running 
down  from  his  cheek  on  to  her  own. 

None  spoke  a  word.  The  men  were  awe-stricken. 
There  was  something  despairing  and  ill-omened  in  the 
deed.  And  yet  there  was  a  savage  grandeur  in  it,' 
which  bound  their  savage  hearts  still  closer  to  their 
chief. 

And  so  mare  Swallow's  bones  lie  somewhere  in 
peat  unto  this  day. 

They  got  to  Well ;  they  sent  out  spies  to  find  the 
men  who  had  been  "wasting  Cissham  with  fire  and 
sword"  :  and  at  last  brought  them  in.  Ill  news,  as 
usual,  had  travelled  fast.  They  had  heard  of  the  fall 
of  Ely,  and  hidden  themselves  "  in  a  certain  very  small 
island  which  is  called  Stimtench,"  where,  thinking 
that  the  friends  in  search  of  them  were  Frenchmen 
in  pursuit,  they  hid  themselves  amongst  the  high 
reeds.  There  two  of  them — one  Starkwulf  by  name, 
the  other  Broher — hiding  near  each  other,  "thought 
that,  as  they  were  monks,  it  might  conduce  to  their 


HERE  WARD  THE  WAKE.  439 

safety  if  they  had  shaven  crowns;  and  set  to  work 
with  their  swords  to  shave  each  other's  heads  as  well 
as  they  could.  But  at  last,  by  their  war-cries  and 
their  speech,  recognising  each  other,  they  left  off 
fighting,"  and  went  after  Here  ward. 

So  jokes,  grimly  enough,  the  old  Chronicler,  who 
may  have  seen  them  come  in  the  next  morning,  with 
bleeding  coxcombs,  and  could  laugh  over  the  thing 
in  after  years.  But  he  was  in  no  humour  for  jesting 
in  the  days  in  which  they  lay  at  Well.  Nor  was  he 
in  jesting  humour  when,  a  week  afterwards,  hunted 
by  the  French  from  Well,  and  forced  to  take  to  meres 
and  waterways  known  only  to  them,  and  too  shallow 
and  narrow  for  the  French  ships,  they  found  their  way 
across  into  the  old  Nen,  and  so  on  toward  Crowland, 
leaving  Peterborough  far  on  the  left.  For  as  they 
neared  Crowland,  they  saw  before  them,  rowing 
slowly,  a  barge  full  of  men.  And  as  they  neared 
that  barge,  behold,  all  they  who  rowed  were  blind 
of  both  their  eyes;  and  all  they  who  sat  and  guided 
them,  were  maimed  of  both  their  hands.  And  as  they 
came  alongside,  there  was  not  a  man  in  all  that 
ghastly  crew  but  was  an  ancient  friend,  by  whose 
side  they  had  fought  full  many  a  day,  and  with  whom 
they  had  drunk  deep  full  many  a  night.  They  were 
the  first  fruits  of  William's  vengeance;  thrust  into 
that  boat,  to  tell  the  rest  of  the  fen-men  what  those 
had  to  expect  who  dared  oppose  the  Norman.  And 
they  were  going  to  Crowland,  to  the  sanctuary  of  the 
Danish  fen-men,  that  they  might  cast  themselves  down 
before  St.  Guthlac,  and  ask  of  him  that  mercy  for 
their  souls  which  the  Conqueror  had  denied  to  their 
bodies.  Alas  for  them  !  They  were  but  a  handful 
among  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands,  of  mutilated 
cripples,  who  swarmed  all  over  England,  and 
especially  in  the  north  and  east,  throughout  the 
reign  of  the  Norman  conquerors.  They  told  their  com- 
rades' fate,  slaughtered  in  the  first  attack,  or  hanged 


440  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

afterwards  as  rebels  and  traitors  to  a  foreigner  whom 
they  had  never  seen,  and  to  whom  they  owed  no 
fealty  by  law  of  God  or  man. 

"  And  Sigtryg  Ranaldsson?" 

None  knew  aught  of  him.  He  never  got  home 
again  to  his  Irish  princess. 

"  And  the  poor  women  ?  "  asked  Tortrida. 

But  she  received  no  answer. 

And  the  men  swore  a  great  oath,  and  kept  it ;  never 
to  give  quarter  to  a  Frenchman,  as  long  as  there  was 
one  left  on  English  ground. 

Neither  were  the  monks  of  Ely  in  jesting  humour, 
when  they  came  to  count  up  the  price  of  their  own 
baseness.     They  had  obeyed  the  apostolic  injunction, 
"to  submit  to  the  powers  that  be,  because  they  are 
ordained,"  etc.     But  they  found  their  return  (as  the 
Book  of  Ely  calls  it)  to  "a  more  wholesome  counsel," 
beset  with  thorns.     The  King  barred  them  out  of  the 
monastery,    lest  the    monks   should   come   out   with 
crosses  and  relics  to  implore  his  mercy.     Going  into 
the  minster,  he  stood  afar  off  from  the  holy  body  of 
St.  Etheldreda,  and  cast  a  mark  of  gold  on  the  altar, ( 
as  a  peace-offering  to   that   terrible   lady  ;    and   then] 
retired   to   Whichford,   leaving  his   soldiers   to  work! 
their  wicked  will.     So  terrified  were  the  poor  monks,] 
that  no  mass  was  celebrated  that   day  :   but  as  the! 
hours  wore  on,  they  needs   must   eat.     And  as  they! 
ate,  there  entered  to  them  into  the  refectory  Gilbert] 
of  Clare — 

"Ye  English  swine,  could  ye  find  no  other  time  t( 
feed?  The  King  is  in  the  minster." 

Out  hurried  the  monks,  but  too  late.  The  Kin£ 
was  gone ;  and  hardly,  by  humbling  themselves  tc 
their  old  enemy  Gilbert,  did  they  obtain  grace  of  the 
King  for  seven  hundred  marks  of  silver.  The  whic 
money  they  took,  as  they  had  promised,  to  Picot  tl 
Viscount  of  Cambridge.  He  weighed  it ;  and  findii 
it  an  ounce  short,  accused  them  of  cheating  the  Kir 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  441 

and  sentenced  them  to  pay  300  marks  more.  Then 
was  lost  all  the  gold  and  silver  which  was  left  in  Ely  : 
the  image  of  St.  Mary  with  her  child,  sitting  on  a 
throne,  wrought  with  wondrous  skill,  which  Elfsy 
the  abbot  had  made  of  gold  and  silver,  was  broken 
up ;  and  the  images  of  the  guardian  virgins  stripped 
of  their  precious  ornaments.  After  which  the  royal 
commissioners  came,  plundered  the  abbey  of  all  that 
was  left  of  those  treasures,  which  had  been  brought 
from  every  quarter  into  the  camp  of  refuge,  of  which 
a  curious  inventory  remains  to  this  day. 

Thurstan,  the  traitor  abbot,  died  in  a  few  months. 
Egelwin,  the  Bishop  of  Durham,  was  taken  in  the 
abbey.  He  was  a  bishop,  and  they  dared  not  kill  him. 
But  he  was  a  patriot,  and  must  have  no  mercy.  They 
accused  him  of  stealing  the  treasures  of  Durham, 
which  he  had  brought  to  Ely  for  the  service  of  his 
country  ;  and  shut  him  up  in  Abingdon.  A  few  months 
after,  the  brave  man  was  found  starved  and  dead, 
"  whether  of  his  own  will,  or  enforced  "  ;  and  so  ended 
another  patriot  prelate.  But  we  do  not  read  that  the 
Normans  gave  back  the  treasures  to  Durham.  And 
so,  yielding  an  immense  mass  of  booty,  and  many  a 
fair  woman,  as  the  Norman's  prey,  ended  the  camp  of 
refuge,  and  the  glory  of  the  isle  of  Ely. 

But  not  the  wrath  of  St.  Etheldreda.  Whatever 
she  might  have  done  when  on  earth,  she  was  not 
inclined,  as  patroness  of  Ely,  to  obey  the  apostolic 
injunction,  and  "  take  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  her 
goods  "  ;  and  she  fell  upon  those  who  had  robbed  her 
of  her  gay  garments  and  rich  manors,  and  left  her  to 
go  in  russet  for  many  a  year,  with  such  strokes  as 
proved  that  the  monks  had  chosen  the  less  of  two  evils, 
when  they  preferred  falling  into  the  hands  of  an  angry 
king  to  falling  into  those  of  an  angry  saint.  Terrible 
was  the  fate  of  Roger  Picot's  man  Gervase,  who  dared 
to  harry  and  bind  St.  Etheldreda's  men  ;  who  even 
brought  an  action  at  law  against  the  Abbot  himself. 


442  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

The  very  night  before  the  trial,  St.  Etheldreda,  and 
her  two  sisters  St.  Withburga  and  Sexburga,  stabbed 
him  to  the  heart  with  the  spikes  of  their  pastoral  staves, 
and  he  died,  to  the  terror  of  all  bystanders. 

Worse,  even,  was  the  fate  of  Roger  Picot  himself, 
"  the  hungry  lion,  the  prowling  wolf,  the  crafty  fox, 
the  filthy  swine,  the  shameless  dog,"  who  had  said, 
"  Who  is  this  Etheldreda,  whose  lands  ye  say  that  I 
have  taken?  I  know  not  Etheldreda,  and  I  will  not 
give  up  her  lands." 

"  Listen,  ye  isles,  and  attend,  ye  people  from  afar 
off,  what  her  Spouse  hath  done  for  the  Lady  of  Ely. 
His  sin,  saith  Scripture,  is  sought,  and  shall  not  be 
found.  By  whom  is  it  sought?  By  Him  from  whom 
nothing  is  hidden.  By  whom  shall  it  be  found?  By 
no  man,  since  none  know  His  day.  Whither  he  is  gone, 
why  he  fled,  or  how  he  has  died;  whether  he  has 
descended  alive  into  the  pit  with  Dathan  and  Abyrom, 
or  become  a  beast  with  Nabuchadonossor;  hath 
vanished  utterly,  or  by  any  other  mode  hath  perished, 
to  be  damned  without  end.  But  one  thing  we  know 
for  certain,  that  in  our  bounds  he  has  appeared  no 
more,  but  has  disappeared  for  ever  to-day.  Glory  to 
Him  who  has  given  us  the  victory  over  our  enemy." 

Worse  again  (according  to  those  of  Ely)  was  the 
fate  of  Earl  William  de  Warrenne,  who  violently  with- 
held some  farms  from  St.  Etheldreda.     For  on  the 
night  on  which  he  died,  the  then  abbot  heard  his  soul 
carried  off  by  demons,  crying  in  vain  to  heaven  for 
mercy.    Therefore  when  his  lady,  Gundreda  (William 
the  Conqueror's  stepdaughter),  a  few  days  after,  sent 
a  hundred  shillings  for  his  soul  to  the  minster  at  Ely, '' 
the  abbot  and  his  monks  sent  them  back,  neither! 
deigning  nor  daring  to  take  the  money  of  a  damned ' 
man.     So  there  is  no  hope  for  Earl  Warrenne,  were! 
it  not  that  the  Cluniac  monks,  whom  he  had  established 
at  Lewes,  holding  naturally  a  different  opinion  of  him 
and  his  deeds,  buried  him  there  in  splendour,  and  put 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  443 

up  over  his  tomb  a  white  marble  slab,  on  which  were 
set  forth  his  virtues,  and  the  present  protection  and 
future  rewards  which  St.  Pancras  was  to  procure  for 
him  in  return  for  the  minster  which  he  had  raised  in 
honour  of  that  mighty  avenger  of  perjury.1 

After  which — whether  St.  Pancras  did  or  did  not 
deliver  Earl  William  from  the  wrath  of  St.  Etheldreda 
— the  Lady  of  Ely  was  appeased  ;  and  when  almost  all 
the  monks  were  either  sick  or  dying  (possibly  from  one 
of  those  fevers  which  so  often  devastated  the  fens),  she 
was  seen,  after  long  fastings  and  vigils,  by  a  holy  man 
named  Goderic,  staying  the  hand  of  some  mighty 
being,  who  was  in  act  to  shoot  an  arrow  from  heaven 
against  the  doomed  borough.  After  which,  watching 
and  praying  still  more  fervently,  he  beheld  St.  Ethel- 
dreda and  her  maidens  rise  from  their  tombs  by  night, 
and  walk  majestic  through  choir  and  cloister,  and  so 
to  the  sick-house  and  the  dying  monks.  And  there 
the  Lady  of  Ely  went  round  to  every  bed,  and  laid  her 
pure  hand  upon  the  throbbing  forehead  and  wiped  the 
typhus-gore  from  the  faded  lips  with  her  sacred  sleeve, 
and  gave  the  sufferers  sudden  health  and  strength ; 
and  signified  to  Goderic,  who  had  followed  her 
trembling  afar  off,  that  all  was  forgiven  and  forgotten. 3 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

HOW  HEREWARD  WENT  TO  THE  GREENWOOD. 

AND  now  is  Hereward  to  the  greenwood  gone,  to 
be  a  bold  outlaw ;  and  not  only  an  outlaw  himself, 
but  the  father  of  all  outlaws,  who  held  those  forests 
for  two  hundred  years,  from  the  fens  to  the  Scot- 
tish border.  Utlages,  forestiers,  latrunculi,  sicarii, 

»  Ordericus  Vitalis,  book  viii.  c.  9. 

a  For  all  these  tales  (the  last  is  told  with  much  pathos),  sec  the  Liber  Eliettsu, 
book  ii.  §  i  iB-'OS- 


444  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

sauvages,  who  prided  themselves  upon  sleeping  on 
the  bare  ground — they  were  accursed  by  the  conquerors,  j 
and  beloved  by  the  conquered.  The  Norman  viscount 
or  sheriff  commanded  to  hunt  them  from  hundred  to 
hundred,  with  hue  and  cry,  horse  and  bloodhound. 
The  English  yeoman  left  for  them  a  keg  of  ale,  or 
a  basket  of  loaves,  beneath  the  hollins  green,  as  sauce 
for  their  meal  of  "  nombles  of  the  dere." 

For  hart  and  hind,  and  doe  and  roe, 
Were  in  that  forest  great  plentie, 

and 

Swannes  and  fesauntes  they  had  full  good, 

And  foules  of  the  rivere. 
There  fayled  never  so  lytell  a  byrda,         ^ 

That  ever  was  bred  on  brere." 

With  the  same  friendly  yeoman  ' '  that  was  a  good 
felawe,"  they  would  lodge  by  twos  and  threes  during 
the  sharp  frosts  of  mid-winter,  in  the  lonely  farm-housd 
which  stood  in  the  "field  "or  forest-clearing:  but  foi 
the  greater  part  of  the  year  their  "  lodging  was  on  the 
cold  ground  "  in  the  holly  thickets,  or  under  the  hang 
ing  rock,  or  in  a  lodge  of  boughs. 

And  then,  after  a  while,  the  life  which  began  it 
terror,  and  despair,  and  poverty,  and  loss  of  land  an< 
kin,  became  not  only  tolerable,  but  pleasant.  Boh 
men  and  hardy,  they  cared  less  and  less  for 

The  thornie  wayes,  the  deep  valleys, 
The  snowe,  the  frost,  the  rayne, 
The  colde,  the  hete  ;  for  dry  or  wete 
We  must  lodge  on  the  plaine, 
And  us  above,  none  other  roofe, 
But  a  brake  bushe.  or  twayne. 

And  they  found  fair  lasses,  too,  in  time,  who,  HI 
Torfrida  and  Maid  Marian,  would  answer,  with  the 
nut-brown  maid,  to  their  warnings  against  the  outlaw 
life,  that— 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  445 

Amonge  the  wylde  dere,  such  an  archere 

As  men  say  that  ye  be, 
He  may  not  fayle  of  good  vitayle, 

Where  is  so  great  plent&  : 
And  water  clere  of  the  rivere, 

Shall  be  full  swete  to  me, 
With  which  in  hele,  I  shall  right  wele, 
Endure,  as  ye  may  see. 

Then  called  they  themselves  "merry  men";  and 
the  forest  the  "merry  greenwood";  and  sang,  with 
Robin  Hood, 

A  merrier  man  than  I,  belyve 
There  lives  not  in  Christentie. 

They  were  coaxed  back,  at  times,  to  civilised  life  ; 
they  got  their  grace  of  the  king,  and  entered  the 
king's  service  :  but  the  craving  after  the  greenwood 
was  upon  them.  They  dreaded  and  hated  the  four 
stone  walls  of  a  Norman  Castle ;  and,  like  Robin 
Hood,  slipt  back  to  the  forest  and  the  deer. 

Gradually,  too,  law  and  order  arose  among  them, 
lawless  as  they  were  ;  that  instinct  of  discipline  and 
self-government,  side  by  side  with  that  of  personal 
independence,  which  is  the  peculiar  mark,  and  peculiar 
strength,  of  the  English  character.  Who  knows  not 
how,  in  the  "  Lytell  Geste  of  Robin  Hood,"  they  shot 
at  "pluck-buffet,"  the  king  among  them  disguised 
as  an  abbot ;  and  every  man  who  missed  the  rose- 
garland,  "  his  tackle  he  should  tyne"  ; 

And  bere  a  buffet  on  his  head, 

Iwys  ryght  all  bare, 
And  all  that  fell  on  Robyn's  lote, 

He  smote  them  wonder  sair. 

Till  Robyn  fayled  of  the  garlonde, 
Three  fyngers  and  mair. 

Then  good  Gilbert  bids  him  in  his  turn. 
Stand  forth  and  take  his  pay. 


446  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

"  If  it  be  so,"  sayd  Robyn, 

"  That  may  no  better  be, 
Syr  Abbot,  I  delyver  thee  myn  arrowe, 

I  pray  thee,  Syr,  serve  thou  me. " 

"  It  falleth  not  for  myne  order,"  saith  our  kynge, 

"  Robyn,  by  thy  leve, 
For  to  smyte  no  good  yeman, 

For  doute  I  should  him  greve." 

"  Smyte  on  boldly,"  sayd  Robyn, 

"  I  give  thee  large  leve." 
Anon  our  kynge,  with  that  word, 

He  folde  up  his  sleeve. 

And  such  a  buffet  he  gave  Robyn, 

To  grounde  he  yode  full  nere. 
"  I  make  myn  avovve,"  sayd  Robyn, 

"  Thou  art  a  stalwarte  frere." 

"  There  is  pyth  in  thyn  arme,"  sayd  Robyn, 

"  I  trowe  thou  canst  well  shoote." 
Thus  our  kynge  and  Robyn  Hode 

Together  they  are  met. 

Hard  knocks  in  good  humour,  strict  rules,  fair  play, 
and  equal  justice  for  high  and  low  ;  this  was  the  old 
outlaw  spirit,  which  has  descended  to  their  inlawed 
descendants  ;  and  makes,  to  this  day,  the  life  and 
marrow  of  an  English  public  school. 

One  fixed  idea  the  outlaw  had — hatred  of  the  invader. 
If  "his   herd  were   the   king's  deer,"  "his   treasure^ 
was  the  earl's  purse "  ;  and  still  oftener  the  purse  of* 
the  foreign  churchman,   Frenchman   or  Italian,   whoV 
had  expelled  the  outlaw's  English  cousins  from  their 
convents ;    scourged    and    imprisoned    them,    as    the 
blessed   archbishop  Lanfranc  did  at  Canterbury,   be- 
cause they   would   not   own   allegiance   to  a  French 
abbot ;  or  murdered  them  at  the  high  altar,   as  did 
the  new  abbot  of  Glastonbury,   because   they  would 
not    change    their   old    Gregorian    chant  for   that   of 
William  of  Fescamp. * 

*  See  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle. 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  447 

On  these  mitred  tyrants  the  outlaw  had  no  mercy, 
as  far  as  their  purses  were  concerned.  Their  persons, 
as  consecrated,  were  even  to  him  sacred  and  in- 
violable— at  least,  from  wounds  and  death  ;  and  one 
may  suppose  Hereward  himself  to  have  been  the  first 
author  of  the  laws  afterward  attributed  to  Robin  Hood. 
As  for  "  robbing1  and  reving,  beting-  and  bynding," 
free  warren  was  allowed  against  the  Norman. 

"  Thereof  no  fors,"  said  Robyn, 

"  We  shall  do  well  enow. 
But  look  ye  do  no  housebonde  harme, 

That  tylleth  wyth  his  plough. 

"  No  more  ye  shall  no  good  yeman, 

That  walketh  by  grene  wood  shawe ; 
Ne  no  knyght,  ne  no  squyer, 

That  will  be  good  felawe. 

"  These  bysshoppes,  and  these  archbyshoppes, 

Ye  shall  them  bete  and  binde  ; 
The  hye  sheryff  of  Nottingfham, 

Hym  holde  in  your  mynde." 

Robyn  loved  our  dere  Ladye, 

For  doubt  of  dedely  synne, 
Wolde  he  never  do  company  harme 

That  any  woman  was  ynne. 

And  even  so  it  was  with  The  Wake  when  he  was 
in  the  Bruneswald,  it  the  old  chroniclers  are  to  be 
believed. 

And  now  Torfrida  was  astonished.  She  had  given 
way  utterly  at  Ely,  from  woman's  fear,  and  woman's 
disappointment.  All  was  over.  All  was  lost.  What 
was  left,  save  to  die  ? 

But — and  it  was  a  new  and  unexpected  fact  to  one 
ot  her  excitable  Southern  blood,  easily  raised,  and 
easily  depressed — she  discovered  that  neither  her 
husband,  nor  Winter,  nor  Gery,  nor  Wenoch,  nor 
Ranald  of  Ramsey,  nor  even  the  romancing  harping- 
Leofric,  thought  that  all  was  lost.  She  argued  it 


448  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE 

with   them,   not   to   persuade   them   into  base  sub- 
mission, but  to  satisfy  her  own  surprise. 

"But  what  will  you  do?" 

"Live  in  the  greenwood." 

"And  what  then?" 

"Burn  every  town  which  a  Frenchman  holds,  and 
kill  every  Frenchman  we  meet." 

"But  what  plan  have  you?" 

"Who  wants  a  plan,  as  you  call  it,  while  he  has 
the  green  hollies  overhead,  the  dun  deer  on  the  lawn, 
bow  in  his  hand,  and  sword  by  his  side?" 

"But  what  will  be  the  end  of  it  all? " 

"We  shall  live  till  we  die." 

"But  William  is  master  of  all  England." 

"What  is  that  to  us?    He  is  not  our  master." 

"But  he  must  be  some  day.  You  will  grow  fewer 
and  fewer.  His  government  will  grow  stronger  and 
stronger." 

"What  is  that  to  us?  When  we  are  dead,  there 
will  be  brave  yeomen  in  plenty  to  take  our  place. 
You  would  not  turn  traitor?" 

"I?  never!  never!  I  will  live  and  die  with  you 
in  your  greenwood,  as  you  call  it.  Only — I  did  not 
understand  you  English." 

Torfrida  did  not.     She  was  discovering  the  fact, 
which  her  nation  have  more  than  once  discovered 
since,  that  the  stupid  valour  of  the  Englishman  never* 
knows  when  it  is  beaten;    and  sometimes,  by  that' 
self-satisfied  ignorance,  succeeds  in  not  being  beaten 
after  all. 

So  The  Wake — if  the  chroniclers  speak  truth — 
assembled  a  formidable  force,  wellnigh,  at  last,  four 
hundred  men.  Winter,  Gery,  Wenoch,  Grogan,  one 
of  the  Azers  of  Lincoln,  were  still  with  him.  Ranald 
the  seneschal  still  carried  his  standard.  Of  Duti  an 
Outi,  the  famous  brothers,  no  more  is  heard.  A 
valiant  Matelgar  takes  their  place;  Alfric  and  Sex- 
wold  and  many  another  gallant  fugitive  cast  up,  like 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  449 

scattered  hounds,  at  the  sound  of  "The  Wake's" 
war-horn.  There  were  those  among-  them  (says 
Gaimar)  who  scorned  to  fight  single-handed  less 
than  three  Frenchmen.  As  for  The  Wake,  he  would 
fight  seven, 

Les  quatre  oscist,  les  treis  fuirent ; 
Naffrez,  sanglant,  cil  s'en  partirent 
En  plusurs  lius  issi  avint, 
K'encontre  seit  tres  bien  se  tuit. 
De  seit  hommes  avait  vertu, 
Un  plus  hardi  ne  fu  veu. 

They  ranged  up  the  Bruneswald,  dashing  out  to 
the  war-cry  of  "  A  Wake  !  A  Wake  !  "  and  laying  all 
waste  with  fire  and  sword  ;  that  is,  such  towns  as 
were  in  the  hands  of  Frenchmen.  A  noble  range  they 
must  have  had,  for  gallant  sportsmen.  Away  south, 
jetween  the  Nene  and  Welland,  stretched  from 
Stamford  and  Peterborough  the  still  vast  forests  of 
3.ockingham,  nigh  twenty  miles  in  length  as  the  crow 
lies,  down  beyond  Rockingham  town,  and  Geddington 
^hase.  To  the  west,  they  had  the  range  of  the 
'  hunting  counties,"  dotted  still,  in  the  more  eastern 
>art,  with  innumerable  copses  and  shaughs,  the 
•emnants  of  the  great  forest,  out  of  which,  as  out  of 
^.ockinghamshire,  have  been  cut  those  fair  parks  and 

Handsome  houses, 
Where  the  wealthy  nobles  dwell ; 

past  which  the  Lord  of  Burghley  led  his  Welsh  bride 
o  that  Burghley  House  by  Stamford  town,  well-nigh 
he  noblest  of  them  all,  which  was  in  Hereward's  time 
ieep  wood,  and  freestone  down.  Round  Exton,  and 
^ormanton,  and  that  other  Burley  on  the  Hill ;  on 
ihrough  those  Morkery  woods,  which  still  retain  the 
H.W.  P 


450  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

name  of  Hereward's  ill-fated  nephew  ;  north  by  Irnham 
and  Corby ;  on  to  Belton  and  Syston  (par  nobile),  and 
south-west  again  to  those  still  wooded  heights,  whence 
all-but-royal  Belvoir  looks  out  over  the  rich  green  vale 
below,  did  Hereward  and  his  men  range  far  and  wide, 
harrying  the  Frenchman,  and  hunting  the  dun  deer. 
Stags  and  fallow  deer  there  were  in  plenty.  There 
remain  to  this  day,  in  Grimsthorpe  Park  by  Bourne, 
the  descendants  of  the  very  deer  which  Earl  Leofric 
and  Earl  Algar,  and  after  them  Hereward  the  outlaw 
hunted  in  the  Bruneswald. 

Deep  tangled  forest  filled  the  lower  claylands 
swarming  with  pheasant,  roe,  badger,  and  more 
wolves  than  were  needed.  Broken  park-like  glade 
covered  the  upper  freestones,  where  the  red  deer  came 
out  from  harbour  for  their  evening  graze,  and  the 
partridges  and  plovers  whirred  up,  and  the  hares 
loped  away,  innumerable  ;  and  where  hollies  and  fernij 
always  gave  dry  lying  for  the  night.  What  did  men 
need  more,  whose  bodies  were  as  stout  as  theii 
hearts  ? 

They  were  poachers  and  robbers — and  why  not  ? 
The  deer  had  once  been  theirs,  the  game,  the  land] 
the  serfs  ;  and  if  Godric  of  Corby  slew  the  Irnhanj 
deer,  and  burned  Irnham  hall  over  the  head  of  thf 
new  French  lord,  and  thought  no  harm,  he  did  bu< 
what  he  would  with  that  which  had  been  once  his 
own. 

Easy  it  was  to  dash  out  by  night,  and  make  a  raid 
to  harry  the  places  which  they  once  had  owned  their 
selves  ;   in  the  vale  of  Belvoir  to  the  west,  or  to  th 
east  in  the  strip  of  fertile  land  which  sloped  dow* 
into  the  fen  ;  and  levy  blackmail  in    Folkingham,  a 
Aslackby,  or   Sleaford,  or  any  other  of  the  "Vills 
(now  thriving  villages)  which  still  remain  in  Domes 
day  Book,  and  written    against   them    the   ugly  ant 
significant — 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  451 

'In  Tatenai  habuerunt  Turgisle  et  Suen  IIII. 
carrucas  terrae,"  etc.  "Hoc  Ivo  Taillebosc  ibi  habet 
in  dominio" — all,  that  is,  that  the  wars  had  left  of 
them. 

The  said  Turgisle  (Torkill  or  Turketil  misspelt  by 
Frenchmen)  and  Sweyn,  and  many  a  good  man  more 
— for  Ivo's  possessions  were  enormous — were  thorns 
in  the  sides  of  Ivo  and  his  men,  which  must  be  ex- 
tracted ;  and  the  Bruneswald  a  nest  of  hornets,  which 
must  be  smoked  out  at  any  cost. 

Wherefore  it  befell,  that  once  upon  a  day,  there 
came  riding  to  Hereward  in  the  Bruneswald,  a  horse- 
man all  alone. 

And  meeting  with  Hereward  and  his  men,  he  made 
signs  of  amity,  and  bowed  himself  low,  and  pulled  out 
of  his  purse  a  letter,  protesting  that  he  was  an  English- 
man, and  a  "good  felawe,"  and  that  though  he  came 
from  Lincoln  town,  a  friend  to  the  English  had 
sent  him. 

That  was  believable  enough,  for  Hereward  had  his 
friends,  and  his  spies,  far  and  wide. 

And  when  he  opened  the  letter,  and  looked  first, 
like  a  wary  man,  at  the  signature,— a  sudden  thrill 
went  through  him. 

It  was  Alftruda's. 

If  he  was  interested  in  her,  considering  what  had 
passed  between  them  from  her  childhood,  it  was 
nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  And  yet,  somehow,  he 
felt  ashamed  of  that  same  sudden  thrill. 

And  Hereward  had  reason  to  be  ashamed.  He  had 
been  faithful  to  Torfrida — a  virtue  most  rare  in  those 
days.  Few  were  faithful  then,  save,  it  may  be, 
Baldwin  of  Mons  to  his  tyrant  and  idol,  the  sorceress 
Richilda  ;  and  William  of  Normandy, — whatever  were 
his  other  sins, — to  his  wise,  and  sweet,  and  beautiful 
Matilda.  The  stories  of  his  coldness  and  cruelty  to 
her  seem  to  rest  on  no  foundation.  One  need  believe 


452  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

them  as  little  as  one  does  the  myth  of  one  chronicler, 
that  when  she  tried  to  stop  him  from  some  expedi- 
tion, and  clung  to  him  as  he  sat  upon  his  horse,  he 
smote  his  spur  so  deep  into  her  breast  that  she  fell 
dead.  The  man  had  self-control,  and  feared  God,  in 
his  own  wild  way  :  therefore  it  was,  perhaps,  that  he 
conquered. 

And  Hereward  had  been  faithful  likewise  to  Torfrida, 
and  loved  her  with  an  overwhelming  adoration, — as 
all  true  men  love.  And  for  that  very  reason  he  was 
the  more  aware,  that  his  feeling  for  Alftruda  was 
strangely  like  his  feeling  for  Torfrida ;  and  yet 
strangely  different. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  letter  that  he  should  not 
have  read.  She  called  him  her  best  and  dearest 
friend,  twice  the  saviour  of  her  life.  What  could  she 
do  in  return,  but,  at  any  risk  to  herself,  try  and  save 
his  life  ?  The  French  were  upon  him.  The  posse 
comitatus  of  seven  counties  was  raising.  "North- 
ampton, Cambridge,  Lincoln,  Holland,  Leicester, 
Huntingdon,  Warwick,"  were  coming  to  the  Brunes- 
wald  to  root  him  out. 

"Lincoln?"  thought  Hereward.     "That  must  be 
Gilbert  of  Ghent,  and  Oger  the  Breton.     No  !  Gilbert 
is  not  coming ;  Sir  Ascelin  is  coming  for  him.    Holland  ? 
That  is  my  friend  Ivo  Taillebois.     Well,  we  shall  have  I 
the  chance  of  paying  off  old  scores.     Northampton  ?  | 
The   Earl  thereof  just   now   is   the   pious   and   loyal 
Waltheof,  as  he  is  of  Huntingdon  and  Cambridge.     Is 
he  going  to  join  young  Fitz-Osbern  from  Warwick  and 
Leicester,  to  root  out  the   last   Englishman  ?     Why 
not  ?     That  would  be  a  deed  worthy  of  the  man  who 
married  Judith,  and  believes  in  the  powers  that  be,  fi 
and  eats  dirt  daily  at  William's  table." 

Then  he  read  on. 

Ascelin  had  been  mentioned,  he  remarked,  three  or  I 
four  times  in  the  letter,  which  was  long,  as  from  one; 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  453 

lingering-  over  the  paper,  wishing  to  say  more  than 
she  dared.  At  the  end  was  a  hint  of  the  reason  : 

"Oh,  that  having  saved  me  twice,  you  could  save 
me  once  more.  Know  you  that  Gospatric  has  been 
driven  from  his  earldom  on  charge  of  treason,  and 
that  Waltheof  has  Northumbria  in  his  place,  as  well 
as  the  parts  round  you  ?  And  that  Gospatric  is  fled 
to  Scotland  again,  with  his  sons — my  man  among 
them?  And  now  the  report  comes,  that  my  man  is 
slain  in  battle  on  the  Border ;  and  that  I  am  to  be 
given  away, — as  I  have  been  given  away  twice  before, 
— to  Ascelin.  This  I  know,  as  I  know  all,  not  only 
from  him  of  Ghent,  but  from  him  of  Peterborough, 
Ascelin's  uncle." 

Hereward  laughed  a  laugh  of  cynical  triumph, — 
pardonable  enough  in  a  broken  man. 

' '  Gospatric  !  the  wittol !  the  woodcock  !  looking  at 
the  springe,  and  then  coolly  putting  his  head  therein. 
Throwing  the  hatchet  after  the  helve  !  selling  his  soul, 
and  never  getting  the  price  of  it !  I  foresaw  it,  fore- 
told it,  I  believe  to  Alftruda  herself, — foretold  that  he 
would  not  keep  his  bought  earldom  three  years. 
What  a  people  we  are,  we  English,  if  Gospatric  is — 
as  he  is — the  shrewdest  man  among  us,  with  a  dash 
of  canny  Scots  blood  too.  '  Among  the  one-eyed,  the 
blind  is  king,'  says  Torfrida,  out  of  her  wise  ancients, 
and  blind  we  are,  if  he  is  our  best.  No.  There  is 
one  better  man  left,  I  trust ;  one  that  will  never 
be  sleepy  enough  to  put  his  head  into  the  wolfs 
mouth,  and  trust  the  Frenchman,  and  that  is,  I  The 
Wake." 

And  Hereward  boasted  to  himself,  at  Gospatric's 
expense,  of  his  own  superior  wisdom,  till  his  eye 
caught  a  line  or  two,  which  finished  the  letter. 

"Oh,  that  you  would  change  your  mind,  much  as 
I  honour  you  for  it.  Oh,  that  you  would  come  in  to 
the  king,  who  loves  and  trusts  you,  having  seen  your 


454  HEREWARD   THE  WAKE. 

constancy  and  faith,  proved  by  so  many  years  of 
affliction.  Great  things  are  open  to  you,  and  great 
joys  ; — I  dare  not  tell  you  what :  but  I  know  them,  if 
you  would  come  in.  You,  to  waste  yourself  in  the 
forest,  an  outlaw  and  a  savage !  Opportunity  once 
lost,  never  returns ;  time  flies  fast,  Hereward  my 
friend,  and  we  shall  all  grow  old, — I  think  at  times 
that  I  shall  soon  grow  old.  And  the  joys  of  life  will 
be  impossible,  and  nothing  left  but  vain  regrets. " 

"Hey?"  said  Hereward,  "a  very  clerkly  letter. 
J  did  not  think  she  was  so  good  a  scholar.  Almost 
as  good  a  one  as  Torfrida." 

That  was  all  he  said  ;  and  as  for  thinking,  he  had 
the  posse  comitatus  of  seven  counties  to  think  of. 
But  what  could  those  great  fortunes  and  joys  be, 
which  Alftruda  did  not  dare  to  describe  ? 

She  growing  old,  too?  Impossible:  that  was 
woman's  vanity.  It  was  but  two  years  since  she  was 
as  fair  as  a  saint  in  a  window.  "  She  shall  not  marry 
Ascelin.  I  will  cut  his  head  off.  She  shall  have  hei 
own  choice  for  once,  poor  child." 

And  Hereward  found  himself  worked  up  to  a  great 
height  of  paternal  solicitude  for  Alftruda,  and 
righteous  indignation  against  Ascelin.  He  did  not 
confess  to  himself  that  he  disliked  much,  in  his  selfish 
vanity,  the  notion  of  Alftruda's  marrying  any  one  at 
all.  He  did  not  want  to  marry  her  himself, — of  course 
not.  But  there  is  no  dog  in  the  manger  so  churlish 
on  such  points  as  a  vain  man.  There  are  those  who 
will  not  willingly  let  their  own  sisters,  their  own 
daughters,  their  own  servants  marry.  Why  should  a 
woman  wish  to  marry  any  one  but  them  ? 

But  Hereward,  however  vain,  was  no  dreamer  or 
sluggard.  He  set  to  work,  joyfully,  cheerfully, 
scenting  battle  afar  off,  like  Job's  war-horse,  and 
pawing  for  the  battle.  He  sent  back  Alftruda's 
messenger,  with  this  answer  : 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  455 

"Tell  your  lady  that  I  kiss  her  hands  and  feet. 
That  I  cannot  write,  for  outlaws  carry  no  pen  and 
ink.  But  that  what  she  has  commanded,  that  will  I 
perform." 

It  is  noteworthy,  that  when  Hereward  showed 
Tortrida  (which  he  did  frankly)  Alftruda's  letter, 
he  did  not  tell  her  the  exact  words  of  his  answer, 
and  stumbled  and  varied  much,  vexing  her  thereby, 
when  she,  naturally,  wished  to  hear  them  word  for 
word. 

Then  he  sent  out  spies  to  the  four  airts  of  heaven. 
And  his  spies,  finding  a  friend  and  a  meal  in  every 
hovel,  brought  home  all  the  news  he  needed. 

He  withdrew  Torfrida  and  his  men  into  the  heart 
of  the  forest, — no  hint  of  the  place  is  given  by  the 
chronicler, — cut  down  trees,  formed  an  abattis  of 
trunks  and  branches,  and  awaited  the  enemy. 


45^      HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 
CHAPTER  XXXV. 

HOW   ABBOT  THOROLD  WAS   PUT  TO  RANSOM. 

THOUGH  Hereward  had,  as  yet,  no  feud  against 
"  Bysshoppes  and  Archbysshoppes,"  save  Egelsin  of 
Selsey,  who  had  excommunicated  him,  but  who  was 
at  the  other  end  of  England,  he  had  feud,  as  may  be 
supposed,  against  Thorold,  Abbot  of  Peterborough  ; 
and  Thorold  feud  likewise  against  him.  When 
Thorold  had  entered  the  "Golden  Borough,"  hoping 
to  fatten  himself  with  all  its  treasures,  he  had  found  it 
a  smoking  ruin,  and  its  treasures  gone  to  Ely  to  pay 
Sweyn  and  his  Danes.  And  such  a  sacrilege,  especi- 
ally when  he  was  the  loser  thereby,  was  the  unpardon- 
able sin  itself  in  the  eyes  of  Thorold,  as  he  hoped  it 
might  be  in  the  eyes  of  St.  Peter.  Joyfully  therefore 
he  joined  his  friend  Ivo  Taillebois,  when,  "with  his 
usual  pompous  verbosity,"  saith  Peter  of  Blois,  writing 
on  this  very  matter,  he  asked  him  to  join  in  destroying 
Hereward. 

Nevertheless,  with  all  the  French  chivalry  at  their 
back,  it  behoved  them  to  move  with  caution  ;  for  (so 
says  the  chronicler)  "Hereward  had  in  these  days 
very  many  foreigners,  as  well  as  landsfolk,  who  had 
come  to  him  to  practise  and  learn  war,  and  fled  from 
their  masters  and  friends  when  they  heard  of  his 
fame  ;  some  of  them  even  the  King's  courtiers,  who 
had  come  to  see  whether  those  things  which  they 
heard  were  true,  whom  Hereward  nevertheless  received 
cautiously,  on  plighted  troth  and  oath." 

So  Ivo  Taillebois  summoned  all  his  men,  and  all 
other  men's  men  who  would  ioin  him,  and  rode  forth 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE  457 

through  Spalding  and  Bourne,  having  announced  to 
Lucia,  his  bride,  that  he  was  going  to  slay  her  one 
remaining  relative  ;  and  when  she  wept,  cursed  and 
kicked  her,  as  he  did  once  a  week.  After  which  he 
came  to  Thorold  of  Peterborough. 

So  on  the  two  worthies  rode  from  Peterborough  to 
Stamford,  and  from  Stamford  into  the  wilderness,  no 
man  knows  whither. 

And  far  they  rode  by  bush  and  shaugh, 
And  far  by  moss  and  mire  : 

But  never  found  a  track  of  The  Wake  or  his  men. 
And  Ivo  Taillebois  left  off  boasting  how  he  would 
burn  Torfrida  over  a  slow  fire,  and  confined  himself 
to  cursing  ;  and  Abbot  Thorold  left  off  warbling  the 
song  of  Roland  as  if  he  had  been  going  to  a  second 
battle  of  Hastings,  and  wished  himself  in  a  warm  bed 
at  Peterborough. 

But  at  the  last  they  struck  upon  a  great  horse-track , 
and  followed  it  at  their  best  pace  for  several  miles  ; 
and  yet  no  sign  of  Hereward. 

"  Catch  an  Englishman,"  quoth  the  Abbot. 

But  that  was  not  so  easy.  The  poor  folk  had 
hidden  themselves,  like  Israel  of  old,  in  thickets,  and 
dens,  and  caves  of  rocks,  at  the  far-off  sight  of  the 
foreign  tyrants  ;  and  not  a  living  soul  had  appeared 
for  twenty  miles.*  At  last  they  caught  a  ragged 
wretch  herding  swine,  and  haled  him  up  to  Ivo. 

•"Have  you  seen  Hereward,  villain?"  asked  he, 
through  an.  interpreter. 

"Nay." 

' '  You  lie.  These  are  his  fresh  horse-tracks,  and 
you  must  have  seen  him  pass." 

"Eh?" 

"Thrust  out  one  of  his  eyes,  and  he  will  find  his 
tongue." 


458  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

It  was  done. 

"  Will  you  answer  now  ?  " 

The  poor  wretch  only  howled. 

"Thrust  out  the  other." 

"No,  not  that!  Mercy:  I  will  tell.  He  is  gone 
by  this  four  hours.  How  have  you  not  met 
him?" 

"  Fool !     The  hoofs  point  onward  there." 

"  Ay  "  —  and  the  fellow  could  hardly  hide  a 
grin  —  "but  he  had  shod  all  his  horses  back, 
wards." 

A  storm  of  execration  followed.  They  might  be 
thrown  twenty  miles  out  of  their  right  road  by  the 
stratagem. 

"So  you  had  seen  Hereward,  and  would  not  tell? 
Put  out  his  other  eye,"  said  Taillebois,  as  a  vent  to  his 
own  feelings. 

And  they  turned  their  horses'  heads,  and  rode  back, 
leaving  the  man  blind  in  the  forest. 

The  day  was  waning  now.  The  fog  hung  heavy 
on  the  tree-tops,  and  dripped  upon  their  heads. 
The  horses  were  getting  tired,  and  slipped  and 
tumbled  in  the  deep  clay  paths.  The  footmen  were 
more  tired  still,  and,  cold  and  hungry,  straggled 
more  and  more.  The  horse-tracks  led  over  an 
open  lawn  of  grass  and  fern,  with  here  and  there 
an  ancient  thorn,  and  round  it  on  three  sides  thick 
wood  of  oak  and  beech,  with  uncler  copse  of  holly 
and  hazel.  Into  that  wood  the  horse-tracks  led,  by 
a  path  on  which  there  was  but  room  for  one  horse 
at  a  time. 

"  Here  they  are  at  last !  "  cried  Ivo.  "  I  see  the 
fresh  foot-marks  of  men,  as  well  as  horses.  Push  on, 
knights  and  men-at-arms." 

The  Abbot  looked  at  the  dark,  dripping  wood,  and 
meditated. 

"  I   think  that  it  will  be  as  well  for  some  of  us 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  459 

to  remain  here ;  and,  spreading  our  men  along 
the  wood-side,  prevent  the  escape  of  the  villains.  A 
moi,  hommes  d'armes  !  " 

"  As  you  like.  I  will  gfo  in,  and  bolt  the  rabbit  ; 
and  you  shall  snap  him  as  he  comes  out." 

And  Ivo,  who  was  as  brave  as  a  bulldog1,  thrust  his 
horse  into  the  path,  while  the  Abbot  sat  shivering 
outside.  "Certain  nobles  of  higher  rank,"  says 
Peter  de  Blois,  "followed  his  example,  not  wishing- 
to  rust  their  armour,  or  tear  their  fine  clothes,  in 
the  damp  copse." 

The  knights  and  men-at-arms  straggled  slowly  into 
the  forest,  some  by  the  path,  some  elsewhere, 
grumbling  audibly  at  the  black  work  before  them. 
At  last  the  crashing  of  the  branches  died  away,  and 
all  was  still. 

Abbot  Thorold  sat  there  upon  his  shivering  horse, 
shivering  himself  as  the  cold  pierced  through  his  wet 
mail ;  and  as  near  an  hour  passed,  and  no  sign  of  foe 
or  friend  appeared,  he  cursed  the  hour  in  which  he 
took  off  the  beautiful  garments  of  the  sanctuary  to 
endure  those  of  the  battlefield.  He  thought  of  a 
warm  chamber,  warm  bath,  warm  footcloths,  warm 
pheasant,  and  warm  wine.  He  kicked  his  freezing 
iron  feet  in  the  freezing  iron  stirrup.  He  tried  to 
blow  his  nose  with  his  freezing  iron  hand ;  but  dropt 
his  handkerchief  (an  almost  unique  luxury  in  those 
days)  into  the  mud,  and  his  horse  trod  on  it. 
He  tried  to  warble  the  song  of  Roland  :  but  the 
words  exploded  in  a  cough  and  a  sneeze.  And 
so  dragged  on  the  weary  hours,  says  the  chronicler, 
nearly  all  day,  till  the  ninth  hour.  But  never  did 
they  see  coming  out  of  the  forest,  the  men  who 
had  gone  in. 

A  shout  from  his  nephew,  Sir  Ascelin,  made  all 
turn  their  heads.  Behind  them,  on  the  open  lawn,  in 
the  throat  between  *he  woods  by  which  they  had 


460  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

entered,  were  some  forty  knights,  galloping  towards 
them. 

"Ivo?" 

"  No  !  "  almost  shrieked  the  Abbot.  "  There  is  the 
Wake  banner.  It  is  Hereuard." 

"There  is  Winter  on  his  left,"  cried  one.  "And 
there,  with  the  standard,  is  the  accursed  monk, 
Ranald  of  Ramsey." 

And  on  they  came,  having  debouched  from  the 
wood  some  two  hundred  yards  off,  behind  a  roll  in 
the  lawn,  just  far  enough  off  to  charge  as  soon  as 
they  were  in  line. 

On  they  came,  two  deep,  with  lances  high  over 
their  shoulders,  heads  and  heels  well  down,  while  the 
green  tufts  flew  behind  them.  "A  moi,  hommes 
d'armes  !  "  shouted  the  Abbot.  But  too  late.  The 
French  turned  right  and  left.  To  form  was  im- 
possible, ere  the  human  whirlwind  would  be  upon 
them. 

Another  half  minute,  and  with  a  shout  of 
"  A  Wake  !  A  Wake  !  "  they  were  struck, 
ridden  through,  hurled  over,  and  trampled  in  the 
mud. 

"  I  yield.  Grace !  I  yield ! "  cried  Thorold, 
struggling  from  under  his  horse  :  but  there  was  no 
one  to  whom  to  yield.  The  knights'  backs  were  fifty 
yards  off,  their  right  arms  high  in  the  air,  striking 
and  stabbing. 

The  battle  was  a  Foutrance.  There  was  no 
quarter  given  that  day. 

And  he  that  came  live  out  thereof 
Was  he  that  ran  away. 

The  Abbot  tried  to  make  for  the  wood :  but  ere  he 
could  gain  it,  the  knights  had  turned,  and  one  rode. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  461 

straight  at  him,  throwing  away  a  broken  lance,  and 
drawing  his  sword. 

Abbot  Thorold  may  not  have  been  the  coward 
which  Peter  of  Blois  would  have  him,  over  and 
above  being  the  bully  which  all  men  would  have 
him  ;  but  if  so,  even  a  worm  will  turn  ;  and  so  did 
the  Abbot :  he  drew  sword  from  thigh,  got  well 
under  his  shield,  his  left  foot  forward,  and  struck 
one  blow  for  his  life,  at  the  right  place— his  foe's 
bare  knee. 

But  he  had  to  do  with  a  warier  man  than  himself. 
There  was  a  quick  jerk  of  the  rein  ;  the  horse  swerved 
round  right  upon  him,  and  knocked  him  head  over 
heels  ;  while  his  blow  went  into  empty  air. 

"  Yield,  or  die  !  "  cried  the  knight,  leaping  from  his 
horse,  and  kneeling  on  his  head. 

"  I  am  a  man  of  God,  an  abbot,  churchman, 
Thorold." 

"  Man  of  all  the  devils  !  "  and  the  knight  lugged  him 
up,  and  bound  his  arms  behind  him  with  the  Abbot's 
own  belt. 

"Ahoi!  Here!  I  have  caught  a  fish.  I  have 
got  the  Golden  Borough  in  my  purse  !  "  roared  he. 
"  How  much  has  St.  Peter  gained  since  we  borrowed 
of  him  last,  Abbot  ?  He  will  have  to  pay  out 
the  silver  pennies  bonnily,  if  he  wishes  to  get  back 
thee." 

"Blaspheme  not,  godless  barbarian!"  Whereat 
the  knight  kicked  him. 

"And  you  have  Thorold  the  scoundrel,  Winter?" 
cried  Hereward,  galloping  up.  "And  we  have  three 
or  more  dainty  French  knights,  and  a  viscount  of 
I  know  not  where  among  them.  This  is  a  good 
day's  work.  Now  for  Ivo  and  his  tail." 

And  the  Abbot,  with  four  or  five  more  prisoners, 
were  hoisted  on  to  their  own  horses,  tied  firmly,  ana 
led  away  into  the  forest  path. 


462  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"  Do  not  leave  a  wounded  man  to  die,"  cried  a 
knight  who  lay  on  the  lawn. 

"Never  we.  I  will  come  back  and  put  you  out  of 
your  pain,"  quoth  some  one. 

"Siward!  Siward  Le  Blanc!  Are  you  in  this 
meinie  ?  "  cried  the  knight  in  French. 

"  That  am  I.     Who  calls  ?  " 

"  For  God's  sake  save  him  !  "  cried  Thorold.  "  He 
is  my  own  nephew,  and  I  will  pay " 

"You  will  need  all  your  money  for  yourself,"  said 
Siward  the  White,  riding1  back. 

"Are  you  Sir  Ascelin  of  Ghent?** 

"  That  am  I,  your  host  of  old." 

"I  wish  I  had  met  you  in  better  company.  But 
friends  we  are,  and  friends  must  be." 

And  he  dismounted,  and  did  his  best  for  the  wounded 
man,  promising  him  to  return  and  fetch  him  off  before 
night,  or  send  yeomen  to  do  so. 

As  he  pushed  on  through  the  wood,  the  Abbot 
began  to  see  signs  of  a  fight ;  riderless  horses 
crashing  through  the  copse,  wounded  men  strag- 
gling back,  to  be  cut  down  without  mercy  by  the 
English.  The  war  had  been  a  Foutrance  for  a 
long  while.  None  gave  or  asked  quarter.  The 
knights  might  be  kept  for  ransom  ;  they  had  money. 
The  wretched  men  of  the  lower  classes,  who  had 
none,  were  slain :  as  they  would  have  slain  the 
English. 

Soon  they  heard  the  noise  of  battle  ;  and  saw  horse- 
men and  footmen  pell-mell,  tangled  in  an  abattis,  from 
behind  which  archers  and  cross-bowmen  shot  them 
down  in  safety. 

Hereward  dashed  forward  with  a  shout,  and  at  that 
the  French,  taken  in  the  flank,  fled,  and  were  smitten 
as  they  fled,  hip  and  thigh. 

Hereward  bade  them  spare  a  fugitive,  and  bring 
him  to  him. 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  463 

"I  give  you  your  life;  so  run,  and  carry  my 
message.  That  is  Taillebois'  banner  there  forward, 
is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Then  go  after  him,  and  tell  him, — Hereward  has 
the  Abbot  of  Burgh,  and  half  a  dozen  knights,  safe 
by  the  heels.  And  unless  Ivo  clears  the  wood  of  his 
men  by  nightfall,  I  will  hang  every  one  of  them  up 
for  the  crows  before  morning." 

Ivo  got  the  message,  and  having  had  enough  fighting 
for  the  day,  drew  off,  says  the  chronicler,  for  the  sake 
of  the  Abbot  and  his  fellow-captives. 

Two  hours  after  the  Abbot  and  tho  other  prisoners 
were  sitting,  unbound  but  unarmed,  in  the  forest 
encampment,  waiting  for  a  right  good  meal  ;  with 
Torfrida  bustling  about  them,  after  binding  up  the 
very  few  wounded  amongst  their  own  men. 

Every  courtesy  was  shown  them  ;  and  their  hearts 
were  lifted  up,  as  they  beheld  approaching  among 
the  trees  great  caldrons  of  good  soup  ;  forest  salads  ; 
red  deer  and  roe  roasted  on  the  wood-embers ;  spits 
of  pheasants  and  partridges,  larks  and  buntings, 
thrust  off  one  by  one  by  fair  hands  into  the  burdock 
leaves  which  served  as  platters ;  and  last  but  not 
least,  jacks  of  ale  and  wine,  appearing  mysteriously 
from  a  cool  old  stone  quarry.  Abbot  Thorold  ate 
to  his  heart's  content,  complimented  every  one, 
vowed  he  would  forswear  all  French  cooks  and 
take  to  the  greenwood  himself,  and  was  as  gracious 
and  courtly  as  if  he  had  been  at  the  new  palace  at 
Winchester. 

And  all  the  more  for  this  reason  —  that  he  had 
intended  to  overawe  the  English  barbarians  by 
his  polished  French  manners.  He  found  those  of 
Hereward  and  Torfrida,  at  least,  as  polished  as  his 
own. 

"  I   am  glad  you  are  content,   Lord  Abbot,"  said 


464  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

Torfrida ;  "I  trust  you  prefer  dining  with  me,  to 
burning  me,  as  you  meant  to  do." 

"  I  burn  such  peerless  beauty  !  I  injure  a  form 
made  only  for  the  courts  of  kings  !  Heaven  and 
all  saints,  knighthood  and  all  chivalry,  forbid. 
What  Taillebois  may  have  said,  I  know  not  ! 
I  am  no  more  answerable  for  his  intentions 
than  for  his  parentage, — or  his  success  this  day. 
Let  churls  be  churls,  and  wood  -  cutters  wood- 
cutters. I  at  least,  thanks  to  my  ancestors,  am  a 
gentleman." 

"  And,  as  a  gentleman,  will  of  course  contribute  to 
the  pleasure  of  your  hosts.  It  will  surely  please  you 
to  gratify  us  with  one  stave  at  least  of  that  song, 
which  has  made  you  famous  among  all  knights," 
holding  out  a  harp. 

"I  blush:  but  obey.  A  harp  in  the  greenwood? 
A  court  in  the  wilderness  !  What  joy  ! " 

And  the  vain  Abbot  took  the  harp,  and  said, 
' '  These,  if  you  will  allow  my  modesty  to  choose, 
are  the  staves  on  which  I  especially  pride  myself. 
The  staves  which  Taillefer  —  you  will  pardon  my 
mentioning  him  " 

"Why  pardon?  A  noble  minstrel  he  was,  and  a 
brave  warrior,  though  our  foe.  And  often  have  I 
longed  to  hear  him,  little  thinking  that  I  should 
hear  instead  the  maker  himself." 

So  said  Hereward ;  and  the  Abbot  sang — those 
wondrous  staves,  where  Roland,  left  alone  of  all 
the  Paladins,  finds  death  come  on  him  fast.  And 
on  the  Pyrenaean  peak,  beneath  the  pine,  he  lays 
himself,  "  his  face  toward  the  ground :  and  under 
him  his  sword  and  magic  horn,  that  Charles  his 
lord  may  say,  and  all  his  folk,  the  gentle  count  he 
died  a  conqueror  ";  and  then  "  turns  his  eyes  south- 
ward toward  Spain;  betakes  himself  to  remember 
many  things;  of  so  many  lands  which  he  conquered 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  465 

valiantly  ;  of  pleasant  France,  of  the  men  of  his  lineage, 
of  Charlemagne  his  lord,  who  brought  him  up.  He 
could  not  help  to  weep  and  sigh,  but  yet  himself  he 
would  not  forget.  He  bewailed  his  sins,  and  prayed 
God's  mercy : — True  Father,  who  ne'er  yet  didst  lie, 
who  raised  St.  Lazarus  from  death,  and  guarded 
Daniel  from  the  lions :  Guard  my  soul  from  all 
perils,  for  the  sins  which  in  my  life  I  did.  His  right 
glove  then  he  offered  to  God  ;  St.  Gabriel  took  it 
from  his  hand  ;  On  his  arm  the  chief  bowed  down, 
with  joined  hands  he  went  unto  his  end.  God 
sent  down  His  angel  Cherubim,  and  St.  Michael 
whom  men  call  'del  peril.'  Together  with  them 
St.  Gabriel  he  came  ;  the  soul  of  the  count  they  bore 
to  Paradise." 

And  the  Abbot  ended,  sadly  and  gently,  with- 
out that  wild  "  Aoi ! "  the  war-cry  with  which  he 
usually  ends  his  staves.  And  the  wild  men  of 
the  woods  were  softened  and  saddened  by  the 
melody ;  and  as  many  as  understood  French  said, 
when  he  finished,  "Amen!  so  may  all  good  knights 
die ! " 

"  Thou  art  a  great  maker,  Abbot !  They  told 
truths  of  thee.  Sing  us  more  of  thy  great 
courtesy." 

And  he  sang  them  the  staves  of  the  Olifant,  the 
magic  horn — How  Roland  would  not  sound  it  in  his 
pride,  and  sounded  it  at  Turpin's  bidding,  but  too 
late ;  and  how  his  temples  burst  with  that  great 
blast,  and  Charles  and  all  his  peers  heard  it  through 
the  gorges,  leagues  away  in  France.  And  then 
his  "Aoi!"  rang  forth  so  loud  and  clear,  like 
any  trumpet  blast,  under  the  oaken  glades,  that 
the  wild  men  leaped  to  their  feet,  and  shouted 
"Health  to  the  gleeman !  Health  to  the  Abbot 
Thorold  ! " 

"  I  have  won  them,"  thought  the  Abbot  to  himself. 


466  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Strange  mixture  that  man  must  have  been,  if  all  which 
is  told  of  him  is  true  ;  a  very  typical  Norman,  compact 
of  cunning  and  ferocity,  chivalry  and  poetry,  vanity 
and  superstition,  and  yet  able  enough  to  help  to 
conquer  England  for  the  Pope. 

Then  he  pressed  Hereward  to  sing,  with  many 
compliments ;  and  Hereward  sang,  and  sang-  again, 
and  all  his  men  crowded  round  him  as  the  out- 
laws of  Judaea  may  have  crowded  round  David  in 
Carmel  or  Hebron,  to  hear,  like  children,  old  ditties 
which  they  loved  the  better  the  oftener  they  heard 
them. 

"No  wonder  that  you  can  keep  these  knights 
together,  if  you  can  charm  them  thus  with  song. 
Would  that  I  could  hear  you  singing  thus  in  William's 
hall." 

' '  No  more  of  that,  Sir  Abbot.  The  only  music  which 
I  have  for  William  is  the  music  of  steel  on  steel." 

Hereward  answered  sharply,  because  he  was  half  of 
Thorold's  mind. 

"Now,"  said  Torfrida,  as  it  grew  late,  "we  must 
ask  our  noble  guest  for  what  he  can  give  us  as  easily 
and  well  as  he  can  song — and  that  is  news.  We  hear 
naught  here  in  the  greenwood,  and  must  throw  one- 
self on  the  kindness  of  a  chance  visitor." 

The  Abbot  leapt  at  the  bait,  and  told  them  news, 
court  gossip,  bringing  in  great  folks'  names  and  his 
own,  as  often  and  as  familiarly  mingled  as  he  could. 

"  What  of  Richilda  ?  "  asked  Torfrida. 

"  Ever  since  young  Arnoul  was  killed  at  Cassel " 

"  Arnoul  killed  ?  "  shrieked  Torfrida. 

"Is  it  possible  that  you  do  not  know? " 

"  How  should  I  know,  shut  up  in  Ely  for — years  it 
seems." 

"  But  they  fought  at  Cassel  three  months  before  you 
went  to  Ely." 

"  Be  it  so.     Only  tell  me.     Arnoul  killed  !  " 


HEREWARD   THE    WAK1-.  467 

Then  the  Abbot  told,  not  without  feeling-,  a  fearful 
story. 

Robert  the  Prison  and  Richilda  had  come  to  open 
war ;  and  Gerbod  the  Fleming,  Earl  of  Chester,  had 
g-one  over  from  England  to  help  Robert.  William 
had  sent  Fitz  Osbern,  Earl  of  Hereford,  the  scourge 
and  tyrant  of  the  Welsh,  to  help  Richilda.  Fitz 
Osbern  had  married  her,  there  and  then.  She  had 
asked  help  of  her  liege  lord,  the  King  of  France, 
and  he  had  sent  her  troops.  Robert  and  Richilda 
had  fought  on  St.  Peter's  Day,  1071 — nearly  two  years 
before,  at  Bavinchoven,  by  Cassel. 

Richilda  had  played  the  heroine,  and  routed  Robert's 
left  wing,  taken  him  prisoner,  and  sent  him  off  to 
St.  Omer.  Men  said  that  she  had  done  it  by  her 
enchantments.  But  her  enchantments  betrayed  her 
nevertheless.  Fitz  Osbern,  her  bridegroom,  fell  dead. 
Young  Arnoul  had  two  horses  killed  under  him.  Then 
Gerbod  smote  him  to  the  ground  ;  and  Richilda  and 
her  troops  fled  in  horror.  Richilda  was  taken,  and 
exchanged  for  the  Prison ;  at  which  the  King  of 
France,  being  enraged,  had  come  down  and  burnt 
St.  Omer.  Then  Richilda,  undaunted,  had  raised 
fresh  troops  to  avenge  her  son.  Then  Robert  had 
met  them  at  Broqueroie  by  Mons,  and  smote  them 
with  a  dreadful  slaughter.1  Thei  Richilda  had  turned 
and  fled  wildly  into  a  convent ;  and,  so  men  said, 
tortured  herself  night  and  day  with  fearful  penances, 
if  by  any  means  she  might  atone  for  her  great  sins. 

Torfrida  heard,  and  laid  her  head  upon  her  knees, 
and  wept  so  bitterly,  that  the  Abbot  entreated  pardon 
for  having  pained  her  so  much. 

The  news  had  a  deep  and  lasting  effect  on  her. 
The  thought  of  Richilda  shivering  and  starving  in 
the  squalid  darkness  of  a  convent,  abode  by  her 
thenceforth.  Should  she  ever  find  herself  atoning 

1  The  place  was  called  till  late,  and  may  be  now,  "  The  Hedges  of  Death." 


468  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

in  like  wise  for  her  sorceries — harmless  as  they  had 
been  ;  for  her  ambitions — just  as  they  had  been  ;  for 
her  crimes  ?  But  she  had  committed  none.  No,  she 
had  sinned  in  many  things :  but  she  was  not  as 
Richilda.  And  yet  in  the  loneliness  and  sadness  of 
the  forest,  she  could  not  put  Richilda  from  before  the 
eyes  of  her  mind. 

It  saddened  Hereward  likewise.  For  Richilda  he 
cared  little.  But  that  boy. — How  he  had  loved  him  ! 
How  he  had  taught  him  to  ride,  and  sing,  and  joust, 
and  handle  sword,  and  all  the  art  of  war.  How  his 
own  rough  soul  had  been  the  better  for  that  love. 
How  he  had  looked  forward  to  the  day  when  Arnoul 
should  be  a  great  prince,  and  requite  him  with  love. 
Now  he  was  gone.  Gone  ?  Who  was  not  gone,  or 
going?  He  seemed  to  himself  the  last  tree  in  the 
forest.  When  should  his  time  come,  and  the  lightning 
strike  him  down  to  rot  beside  the  rest  ?  But  he  tost 
the  sad  thoughts  aside.  He  could  not  afford  to 
nourish  them.  It  was  his  only  chance  of  life,  to  be 
merry  and  desperate. 

"  Well !  "  said  Hereward,  ere  they  hapt  themselves 
up  for  the  night.  "We  owe  you  thanks,  Abbot 
Thorold,  for  an  evening  worthy  of  a  king's  court, 
rather  than  a  holly  bush." 

"  I  have  won  him  over,"  thought  the  Abbot. 

"So  charming  a  courtier — so  sweet  a  minstrel — 
so  agreeable  a  newsmonger  —  could  I  keep  you 
in  a  cage  for  ever,  and  hang  you  on  a  bough,  I 
were  but  too  happy  :  but  you  are  too  fine  a  bird  to 
sing  in  captivity.  So  you  must  go,  I  fear,  and  leave 
us  to  the  nightingales.  And  I  will  take  for  your 
ransom " 

Abbot  Thorold's  heart  beat  high. 

"Thirty  thousand  silver  marks." 

"  Thirty  thousand  fiends  !  " 

"  My  beau  Sire,  will  you  undervalue  yourself  ?     Will 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  469 

you  degrade  yourself?  I  took  Abbot  Thorold,  from 
his  talk,  to  be  a  man  who  set  even  a  higher  value  on 
himself  than  other  men  set  on  him.  What  higher 
compliment  can  I  pay  to  your  vast  worth,  than  mak- 
ing your  ransom  high  accordingly,  after  the  spirit  of 
our  ancient  English  laws?  Take  it  as  it  is  meant 
beau  Sire;  be  proud  to  pay  the  money;  and  we  will 
throw  you  Sir  Ascelin  into  the  bargain,  as  he  seems  a 
friend  of  Siward's." 

Thorold  hoped  that  Hereward  was  drunk,  and  might 
forget,  or  relent :  but  he  was  so  sore  at  heart  that  he 
slept  not  a  wink  that  night. 

But  in  the  morning  he  found,  to  his  sorrow,  that 
Hereward  had  been  as  sober  as  himself. 

In  fine,  he  had  to  pay  the  money;  and  was  a  poor 
man  all  his  days. 

"  Aha  !  Sir  Ascelin,"  said  Hereward  apart,  as  he 
bade  them  all  farewell  with  many  courtesies.  "  I 
think  I  have  put  a  spoke  in  your  wheel  about  the  fair 
Alftruda." 

"  Eh?     How?     Most  courteous  victor?  " 

"  Sir  Ascelin  is  not  a  very  wealthy  gentleman." 

Ascelin  laughed  assent. 

"  Nudus  intravi,  nudus  exeo — England;  and  I  fear 
now,  this  mortal  life  likewise." 

"  But  he  looked  to  his  rich  uncle  the  Abbot,  to 
further  a  certain  marriage-project  of  his.  And  of 
course  neither  my  friend  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  nor  my 
enemy  William  of  Normandy,  are  likely  to  give 
away  so  rich  an  heiress  without  some  gratification  in 
return." 

"  Sir  Hereward  knows  the  world,  it  seems." 

"  So  he  has  been  told  before.  And  therefore, 
having  no  intention  that  Sir  Ascelin — however 
worthy  of  any  and  every  fair  lady — should  marry 
this  one,  he  took  care  to  cut  off  the  stream  at  the 
fountain  head.  If  he  hears  that  the  suit  is  still 


470  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

pushed,  he  may  cut  off  another  head  beside  the 
fountain's." 

"There  will  be  no  need,"  said  Ascelin,  laughing' 
again.  "You  have  very  sufficiently  ruined  my  uncle, 
and  my  hopes." 

"My  head?"  said  he,  as  soon  as  Hereward  was 
out  of  hearing.  "  If  I  do  not  cut  off  thy  head  ere  all 
is  over,  there  is  neither  luck  nor  craft  left  among 
Frenchmen.  I  shall  catch  The  Wake  sleeping  some 
day,  let  him  be  never  so  Wakeful." 


HEREWARD   THE    WAKE.  471 

CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

HOW    ALFTRUDA    WROTE   TO    HBREWARD. 

THE  weary  months  ran  on,  from  summer  into  winter, 
and  winter  into  summer  again,  for  two  years  and  more, 
and  neither  Torfrida  nor  Hereward  was  the  better  for 
them.  Hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick ;  and  a 
sick  heart  is  but  too  apt  to  be  a  peevish  one.  So 
there  were  fits  of  despondency,  jars,  mutual  recrimina- 
tions. "  If  I  had  not  taken  your  advice,  I  should  not 
have  been  here."  "  If  I  had  not  loved  you  so  well, 
I  might  have  been  very  differently  off."  And  so  forth. 
The  words  were  wiped  away  the  next  hour,  perhaps 
the  next  minute,  by  sacred  kisses  :  but  they  had  been 
said,  and  would  be  recollected,  and  perhaps  said 
again. 

Then,  again,  the  "merry  greenwood"  was  merry 
enough  in  the  summer  tide,  when  shaughs  were 
green,  and 

The  woodwele  sang,  and  would  not  cease, 

Sitting-  upon  the  spray, 
So  loud,  it  wakened  Robin  Hood 

In  the  greenwood  where  he  lay. 

But  it  was  a  sad  place  enough,  when  the  autumn 
fog  crawled  round  the  gorse,  and  dripped  off  the 
hollies,  and  choked  alike  the  breath  and  the  eyesight ; 
when  the  air  sickened  with  the  graveyard  smell  ot 
rotting  leaves,  and  the  rain-water  stood  in  the  clay 
holes  over  the  poached  and  sloppy  lawns. 

It  was  merry  enough,  too,  when  they  were  in  winter 
quarters  in  friendly  farm-houses,  as  long  as  the  bright 


472  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

sharp  frosts  lasted,  and  they  tracked  the  hares  and 
deer  merrily  over  the  frozen  snows  :  but  it  was  doleful 
enough  in  those  same  farm-houses  in  the  howling  wet 
weather,  when  wind  and  rain  lashed  in  through  the 
unglazed  window  and  ill-made  roof,  and  there  were 
coughs  and  colds  and  rheumatisms,  and  Torfrida 
ached  from  head  to  foot,  and  once  could  not  stand 
upright  for  a  whole  month  together,  and  every  cranny 
was  stuffed  up  with  bits  of  board  and  rags,  keeping 
out  light  and  air  as  well  as  wind  and  water ;  and 
there  was  little  difference  between  the  short  day  and 
the  long  night ;  and  the  men  gambled  and  wrangled 
amid  clouds  of  peat  reek,  over  draught-boards  and 
chessmen  which  they  had  carved  for  themselves,  and 
Torfrida  sat  stitching  and  sewing,  making  and  mend- 
ing, her  eyes  bleared  with  peat  smoke,  her  hands 
sore  and  coarse  from  continued  labour,  her  cheek 
bronzed,  her  face  thin  and  hollow,  and  all  her  beauty 
worn  away  for  very  trouble.  Then  sometimes  there 
was  not  enough  to  eat,  and  every  one  grumbled  at 
her ;  or  some  one's  clothes  were  not  mended,  and 
she  was  grumbled  at  again.  And  sometimes  a  forag- 
ing party  brought  home  liquor,  and  all  who  could, 
got  drunk  to  drive  dull  care  away  ;  and  Hereward, 
forgetful  of  all  her  warnings,  got  more  than  was  good 
for  him  likewise  ;  and  at  night  she  coiled  herself  up 
in  her  furs,  cold  and  contemptuous  ;  and  Hereward 
coiled  himself  up,  guilty  and  defiant,  and  woke  her 
again  and  again  with  startings  and  wild  words  in 
his  sleep.  And  she  felt  that  her  beauty  was  gone, 
and  that  he  saw  it ;  and  she  fancied  him  (perhaps 
it  was  only  fancy)  less  tender  than  of  yore  ;  and  then 
in  very  pride  disdained  to  take  any  care  of  her  person, 
and  said  to  herself,  though  she  dare  not  say  it  to  him, 
that  if  he  only  loved  her  for  her  face,  he  did  not  love 
her  at  all.  And  because  she  fancied  him  cold  at  times, 
she  was  cold  likewise,  and  grew  less  and  less  caressing, 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  473 

when  for  his  sake,  as  well  as  her  own,  she  should 
have  grown  more  so  day  by  day. 

Alas  !  for  them.  There  are  many  excuses.  Sorrow 
may  be  a  softening  medicine  at  last,  but  at  first  it 
is  apt  to  be  a  hardening  one  ;  and  that  savage  outlaw 
life  which  they  were  leading  can  never  have  been 
a  wholesome  one  for  any  soul  of  man,  and  its  graces 
must  have  existed  only  in  the  brains  of  harpers  and 
gleemen.  Away  from  law,  from  self-restraint,  from 
refinement,  from  elegance,  from  the  very  sound  of 
a  church-going  bell,  they  were  sinking  gradually  down 
to  the  level  of  the  coarse  men  and  women  whom  they 
saw  ;  the  worse  and  not  the  better  parts  of  both  their 
characters  were  getting  the  upper  hand  ;  and  it  was 
but  too  possible  that  after  a  while  the  hero  might  sink 
into  the  ruffian,  the  lady  into  a  slattern  and  a  shrew. 

But  in  justice  to  them  be  it  said,  that  neither  of 
them  had  complained  of  the  other  to  any  living  soul. 
Their  love  had  been  as  yet  too  perfect,  too  sacred, 
for  them  to  confess  to  another  (and  thereby  confess 
to  themselves)  that  it  could  in  any  wise  fail.  They 
had  each  idolised  the  other,  and  been  too  proud  of 
their  idolatry  to  allow  that  their  idol  could  crumble 
or  decay. 

And  yet  at  last  that  point  too  was  reached.  One 
day  they  were  wrangling  about  somewhat,  as  they 
too  often  wrangled,  and  Hereward  in  his  temper  let 
fall  the  words,  "  As  I  said  to  Winter  the  other  day, 
you  grow  harder  and  harder  upon  me." 

Torfrida  started  and  fixed  on  him  wide  terrible  scornful 
eyes.  "So  you  complain  of  me  to  your  boon  com- 
panions ?  " 

And  she  turned  and  went  away  without  a  word.  A 
gulf  had  opened  between  them.  They  hardly  spoke 
to  each  other  for  a  week. 

Hereward  complained  of  Torfrida?  What  if  Tor- 
frida should  complain  of  Hereward  ?  But  to  whom  ? 


474  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE, 


Not  to  the  coarse  women  round  her :  her  pride  re- 
volted from  that  thought : — and  yet  she  longed  for 
counsel,  for  sympathy, — to  open  her  heart  but  to 
one  fellow-woman.  She  would  go  to  the  Lady  Godiva 
at  Crowland,  and  take  counsel  of  her,  whether  there 
was  any  method  (for  she  put  it  to  herself)  of  saving 
Hereward  ;  for  she  saw  but  too  clearly  that  he  was 
fast  forgetting  all  her  teaching,  and  falling  back  to 
a  point  lower^  than  that  even  from  which  she  had 
raised  him  up. 

To  go  to  Crowland  was  not  difficult.  It  was  mid- 
winter. The  dykes  were  all  frozen.  Hereward  was 
out  foraging  in  the  Lincolnshire  wolds.  So  Torfrida, 
taking  advantage  of  his  absence,  proposed  another 
foraging  party  to  Crowland  itself.  She  wanted  stuff 
for  clothes,  needles,  thread,  what  not.  A  dozen  stout 
fellows  volunteered  at  once  to  take  her.  The  friendly 
monks  of  Crowland  would  feast  them  royally,  and 
send  them  home  heaped  with  all  manner  of  good 
things ;  while  as  for  meeting  Ivo  Taillebois'  men, 
if  they  had  but  three  to  one  against  them,  there  was 
a  fair  chance  of  killing  a  few,  and  carrying  off  their 
clothes  and  weapons,  which  would  be  useful.  So  they 
made  a  sledge,  tied  beef  bones  underneath  it,  put 
Torfrida  and  the  girl  thereon,  well  wrapped  in  deer 
and  fox  and  badger  skin,  and  then  putting  on  their 
skates,  swept  them  over  the  fen  to  Crowland,  singing 
like  larks  along  the  dykes. 

And  Torfrida  went  in  to  Godiva,  and  wept  upon 
her  knees  ;  and  Godiva  wept  likewise,  and  gave  her 
such  counsel  as  she  could, — how  if  the  woman  will 
keep  the  men  heroic,  she  must  keep  herself  not 
heroic  only  but  devout  likewise  ;  how  she  herself, 
by  that  one  deed  which  had  rendered  her  name  famous 
then,  and  famous  (though  she  never  dreamt  thereof) 
now  and  it  may  be  to  the  end  of  time — had  once  for 
all,  tamed,  chained,  and,  as  it  were,  converted  the 


HE  REWARD  THE  WAKE.  475 

heart  ot  her  fierce  young-  lord  ;  and  enabled  her  to 
train  him  in  gx>od  time  into  the  most  wise,  most 
just,  most  pious,  of  all  King*  Edward's  earls. 

And  Torfrida  said  yes,  and  yes,  and  yes,  and  felt 
in  her  heart  that  she  knew  all  that  already.  Had 
not  she  too  taught,  entreated,  softened,  civilised? 
Had  not  she  too  spent  her  life  upon  a  man,  and 
that  man  a  wolfs  head  and  a  landless  outlaw,  more 
utterly  than  Godiva  could  ever  have  spent  hers  on 
one  who  lived  lapped  in  luxury,  and  wealth,  and 
power  ?  Torfrida  had  done  her  best ;  and  she  had 
failed  :  or  at  least  fancied  in  her  haste  that  she  had 
failed. 

What  she  wanted  was  not  counsel,  but  love.  And 
she  clung  round  the  Lady  Godiva,  till  the  broken 
and  ruined  widow  opened  all  her  heart  to  her,  and 
took  her  in  her  arms,  and  fondled  her  as  if  she  had 
been  a  babe.  And  the  two  women  spoke  few  words 
after  that,  for  indeed  there  was  nothing-  to  be  said. 
Only  at  last,  "  My  child,  my  child,"  cried  Godiva, 
"better  for  thee,  body  and  soul,  to  be  here  with  me 
in  the  house  of  God,  than  there  amid  evil  spirits  and 
deeds  of  darkness  in  the  wild  woods." 

"  Not  a  cloister,  not  a  cloister,"  cried  Torfrida, 
shuddering,  and  half  struggling  to  get  away. 

"It  is  the  only  place,  poor  wilful  child,  the  only 
place  this  side  the  grave,  in  which  we  wretched 
creatures,  who  to  our  woe  are  women  born,  can 
find  aught  of  rest  or  peace.  By  us  sin  came  into 
the  world,  and  Eve's  curse  lies  heavy  on  us  to  this 
day,  and  our  desire  is  to  our  lords,  and  they  rule  over 
us ;  and  when  the  slave  can  work  for  her  master 
no  more,  what  better  than  to  crawl  into  the  house 
of  God,  and  lay  down  our  crosses  at  the  foot  of 
His  cross,  and  die  ?  You  too  will  come  here,  Torfrida, 
some  day,  I  know  it  well  You  too  will  come  here 
to  rest." 


476  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

"  Never,  never,"  shrieked  Torfrida,  "  never  to  these 
horrid  vaults.  I  will  die  in  the  fresh  air.  I  will  be 
buried  under  the  green  hollies;  and  the  nightingales, 
as  they  wander  up  from  my  own  Provence,  shall  build 
and  sing  over  my  grave.  Never,  never !  "  murmured 
she  to  herself  all  the  more  eagerly,  because  something 
within  her  said  that  it  would  come  to  pass. 

The  two  women  went  into  the  church  to  Matins, 
and  prayed  long  and  fervently.  And  at  the  early 
daybreak,  the  party  went  back  laden  with  good 
things  and  hearty  blessings,  and  caught  one  of  Ivo 
Taillebois'  men  by  the  way,  and  slew  him,  and  got 
off  him  a  new  suit  of  clothes  in  which  the  poor  fellow 
was  going  courting;  and  so  they  got  home  safe  into 
the  Bruneswald. 

But  Torfrida  had  not  found  rest  unto  her  soul.  For 
the  first  time  in  her  life  since  she  became  the  bride  of 
Hereward,  she  had  had  a  confidence  concerning  him 
and  unknown  to  him.  It  was  to  his  own  mother — 
true.  And  yet  she  felt  as  if  she  had  betrayed  him  : 
but  then  had  he  not  betrayed  her?  And  to  Winter  of 
all  men  ? 

It  might  have  been  two  months  afterwards 
that  Martin  Lighfoot  put  a  letter  into  Torfrida's 
hand. 

The  letter  was  addressed  to  Hereward  :  but  there 
was  nothing  strange  in  Martin's  bringing  it  to  his 
mistress.  Ever  since  their  marriage,  she  had  opened 
and  generally  answered  the  very  few  epistles  with 
which  her  husband  was  troubled. 

She  was  going  to  open  this  one  as  a  matter  of 
course,  when  glancing  at  the  superscription  she  saw, 
or  fancied  she  saw,  that  it  was  in  a  woman's  hand. 
She  looked  at  it  again.  It  was  sealed  plainly  with  a 
woman's  seal;  and  she  looked  up  at  Martin  Lightfoot. 
She  had  remarked  as  he  gave  her  the  letter  a  sly 
significant  look  in  his  face. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  477 

"What  dost  thou  know  of  this  letter?"  she 
inquired  sharply. 

' '  That  it  is  from  the  Countess  Alftruda,  whosoever 
she  may  be." 

A  chill  struck  through  her  heart.  True,  Alftruda 
had  written  before,  only  to  warn  Hereward  of  danger 
to  his  life, — and  hers.  She  might  be  writing  again, 
only  for  the  same  purpose.  But  still,  she  did  not  wish 
that  either  Hereward,  or  she,  should  owe  Alftruda 
their  lives,  or  anything.  They  had  struggled  on 
through  weal  and  woe  without  her,  for  many  a  year. 
Let  them  do  so  without  her  still.  That  Alftruda  had 
once  loved  Hereward  she  knew  well.  Why  should 
she  not  ?  The  wonder  was  to  her  that  every  woman 
did  not  love  him.  But  she  had  long  since  gauged 
Alftruda's  character,  and  seen  in  it  a  persistence  like 
her  own,  yet  as  she  proudly  hoped,  of  a  lower  temper  ; 
the  persistence  of  the  base  weasel,  not  of  the  noble 
hound  :  yet  the  creeping  weasel  might  endure,  and 
win,  when  the  hound  was  tired  out  by  his  own  gallant 
pace.  And  there  was  a  something  in  the  tone  of 
Alftruda's  last  letter,  which  seemed  to  tell  her  that 
the  weasel  was  still  upon  the  scent  of  its  game.  But 
she  was  too  proud  to  mistrust  Hereward,  or  rather,  to 
seem  to  mistrust  him.  And  yet — how  dangerous 
Alftruda  might  be  as  a  rival,  if  rival  she  chose  to 
be.  She  was  up  in  the  world  now,  free,  rich,  gay, 
beautiful,  a  favourite  at  Queen  Matilda's  court,  while 
she 

"  How  came  this  letter  into  thy  hands  ?  "  asked  she 
as  carelessly  as  she  could. 

"  I  was  in  Peterborough  last  night,"  said  Martin, 
"concerning  little  matters  of  my  own,  and  there  came 
to  me  in  the  street  a  bonny  young  page  with  smart 
jacket  on  his  back,  smart  cap  on  his  head,  and  smiles 
and  bows,  and  'You  are  one  of  Hereward's  men,' 
quoth  he.  '  Say  that  again,  young  jackanapes,' 


478  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

said  I,  'and  I'll  cut  your  tongue  out,'  whereat  he  took 
fright  and  all  but  cried.  He  was  very  sorry,  and 
meant  no  harm,  but  he  had  a  letter  for  my  master, 
and  he  heard  I  was  one  of  his  men.  "  Who  told  him 
that  ? '  Well,  one  of  the  monks,  he  could  not  justly 
say  which,  or  wouldn't,  and  I,  thinking-  the  letter  of 
more  importance  than  my  own  neck,  ask  him  quietly 
into  my  friend's  house.  There  he  pulls  out  this  and 
five  silver  pennies,  and  I  shall  have  five  more  if  I 
bring  an  answer  back :  but  to  none  than  Hereward 
must  I  give  itk  With  that  I,  calling  my  friend,  who 
is  an  honest  woman,  and  nigh  as  strong  in  the  arms 
as  I  am,  ask  her  to  clap  her  back  against  the  door, 
and  pull  out  my  axe.  'Now,'  said  I,  'I  must  know 
a  little  more  about  this  letter.  Tell  me,  knave,  who 
gave  it  thee,  or  I'll  split  thy  skull.'  The  young  man 
cries  and  blubbers  ;  and  says  that  it  is  the  Countess 
Alftruda,  who  is  staying  in  the  monastery,  and  that 
he  is  her  serving  man,  and  that  it  is  as  much  as  my 
life  is  worth  to  touch  a  hair  of  his  head,  and  so  forth, 
— so  far  so  good.  Then  I  asked  him  again,  who  told 
him  I  was  my  master's  man  ? — and  he  confessed  that 
it  was  Herluin  the  prior, — he  that  was  Lady  Godiva's 
chaplain  of  old,  whom  my  master  robbed  of  his  money 
when  he  had  the  cell  of  Bourne  years  agone.  Very 
well,  quoth  I  to  myself,  that's  one  more  count  on  our 
score  against  Master  Herluin.  Then  I  asked  him  how 
Herluin  and  the  Lady  Alftruda  came  to  know  aught  of 
each  other?  and  he  said  that  she  had  been  question- 
ing all  about  the  monastery  without  Abbot  Thorold's 
knowledge,  for  one  that  knew  Hereward  and  favoured 
him  well.  That  was  all  I  could  get  from  the  knave, 
he  cried  so  for  fright.  So  I  took  his  money  and  his 
letter,  warning  him  that  if  he  betrayed  me,  there  were 
those  who  would  roast  him  alive  before  he  was  done 
with  me.  And  so  away  over  the  town  wall,  and 
ran  here  five-and-twenty  miles  before  breakfast,  and 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  479 

thought  it  better  as  you  see  to  give  the  letter  to  my 
lady  first." 

"You  have  been  officious,"  said  Torfrida  coldly. 
"'Tis  addressed  to  your  master.  Take  it  to  him. 
Go." 

Martin  Lightfoot  whistled  and  obeyed,  while  Tor- 
frida walked  away  proudly  and  silently  with  a  beat- 
ing heart. 

Again  Godiva's  words  came  over  her.  Should  she 
end  in  the  convent  of  Crowland?  And  suspecting, 
fearing,  imagining  all  sorts  of  baseless  phantoms,  she 
hardened  her  heart  into  a  great  hardness. 

Martin  had  gone  with  the  letter,  and  Torfrida  never 
heard  any  more  of  it. 

So  Hereward  had  secrets  which  he  would  not  tell  to 
her.  At  last ! 

That,  at  least,  was  a  misery,  which  she  would  not 
confide  to  Lady  Godiva,  or  to  any  soul  on  earth. 

But  a  misery  it  was,  such  a  misery  as  none  can 
delineate,  save  those  who  have  endured  it  themselves, 
or  had  it  confided  to  them  by  another.  And  happy 
are  they,  to  whom  neither  has  befallen. 

She  wandered  out  and  into  the  wild  wood,  and  sat 
down  by  a  spring.  She  looked  in  it — her  only  mirror 
— at  her  wan  coarse  face,  with  wild  black  elf  locks 
hanging  round  it,  and  wondered  whether  Alftruda,  in 
her  luxury  and  prosperity,  was  still  so  very  beautiful. 
Ah,  that  that  fountain  were  the  fountain  of  Jouvence, 
the  spring  of  perpetual  youth,  which  all  believed  in 
those  days  to  exist  somewhere, — how  would  she  plunge 
into  it,  and  be  young  and  fair  once  more  I 

No !  she  would  not !  She  had  lived  her  life,  and 
lived  it  well,  gallantly,  lovingly,  heroically.  She  had 
given  that  man  her  youth,  her  beauty,  her  wealth,  her 
wit.  He  should  not  have  them  a  second  time.  He 
had  had  his  will  of  her.  If  he  chose  to  throw  her 
away  when  he  had  done  with  her,  to  prove  himself 


480  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

base  at  last,  unworthy  of  all  her  care,  her  counsels, 
her  training, — dreadful  thought !  To  have  lived  to 
keep  that  man  for  her  own,  and  just  when  her  work 
seemed  done,  to  lose  him  !  No,  there  was  worse  than 
that.  To  have  lived  that  she  might  make  that  man  a 
perfect  knight,  and  just  when  her  work  seemed  done, 
to  see  him  lose  himself. 

And  she  wept  till  she  could  weep  no  more.  Then 
she  washed  away  her  tears  in  that  well.  Had  it  been 
in  Greece  of  old,  it  would  have  become  a  sacred  well 
thenceforth,  and  Torfrida's  tears  have  changed  into 
forget-me-nots,  and  fringed  its  marge  with  azure 
evermore. 

Then  she  went  back,  calm,  all  but  cold :  but 
determined  not  to  betray  herself,  let  him  do  what  he 
would.  Perhaps  it  was  all  a  mistake,  a  fancy.  At 
least  she  would  not  degrade  him,  and  herself,  by 
showing  suspicion.  It  would  be  dreadful,  shameful 
to  herself,  wickedly  unjust  to  him,  to  accuse  him  were 
he  innocent  after  all. 

Hereward,  she  remarked,  was  more  kind  to  her  now. 
But  it  was  a  kindness  which  she  did  not  like.  It  was 
shy,  faltering,  as  of  a  man  guilty  and  ashamed  ;  and 
she  repelled  it  as  much  as  she  dared,  and  then,  once 
or  twice,  returned  it  passionately,  madly,  in  hopes 

But  he  never  spoke  a  word  of  that  letter. 

After  a  dreadful  month,  Martin  came  mysteriously 
to  her  again.  She  trembled,  for  she  had  remarked  in 
him  lately  a  strange  change.  He  had  lost  his  usual 
loquacity,  and  quaint  humour ;  and  had  fallen  back 
into  that  sullen  taciturnity  which,  so  she  heard,  he 
had  kept  up  in  his  youth.  He,  too,  must  know  evil 
which  he  dared  not  tell. 

"  There  is  another  letter  come.  It  came  last  night," 
said  he. 

"What  is  that  to  thee  or  me?  My  lord  has  his 
state  secrets,  Is  it  for  us  to  pry  into  them  ?  Go." 


H.W.  Page  486. 

"She  lifted  up  her  voice  and  shrieked  three  times." 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  48: 

"  I  thought— I  thought " 

"Go,  I  say!" 

"That  your  ladyship  might  wish  for  a  guide  to 
Crowland." 

"Crowland?"  almost  shrieked  Torfrida,  for  the 
thought  of  Crowland  had  risen  in  her  own 
wretched  mind  instantly  and  involuntarily.  "  Go, 
madman  ! " 

Martin  went.  Torfrida  paced  madly  up  and  down 
the  farm-house.  Then  she  settled  herself  into  fierce 
despair. 

There  was  a  noise  of  trampling  horses  outside. 
The  men  were  arming  and  saddling,  seemingly  for  a 
raid. 

Hereward  hurried  in  for  his  armour.  When  he  saw 
Torfrida,  he  blushed  scarlet. 

"  You  want  your  arms,"  said  she  quietly  ;  "let  me 
fetch  them." 

"No,  never  mind.  I  can  harness  ryself;  I  am 
going  south-west,  to  pay  Taillebois  a  visit.  I  am  in 
a  great  hurry.  I  shall  be  back  in  three  days.  Then 
— good-bye." 

He  snatched  his  arms  off  a  perch,  and  hurried  out 
again,  dragging  them  on.  As  he  passed  her,  he 
offered  to  kiss  her  ;  she  put  him  back,  and  helped 
him  on  with  his  armour,  while  he  thanked  her  con- 
fusedly. 

"  He  was  as  glad  not  to  kiss  me,  after  all !  " 

She  looked  after  him  as  he  stood,  his  hand  on 
his  horse's  withers.  How  noble  he  looked !  And 
a  great  yearning  came  over  her.  To  throw  her 
arms  round  his  neck  once,  and  then  to  stab  her- 
self, and  set  him  free,  dying,  as  she  had  lived, 
for  him. 

Two  bonny  boys  were  wrestling  on  the  lawn,  young 
outlaws  who  had  grown  up  in  the  forest  with  ruddy 
cheeks  and  iron  limbs 

H.W.  0 


482  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

"Ah,  Winter!"  she  heard  him  say,  "had  I  had 
such  a  boy  as  that ! : 

She  heard  no  more.  She  turned  away,  her  heart 
dead  within  her.  She  knew  all  that  those  words 
implied,  in  days  when  the  possession  of  land  was 
everything  to  the  free  man  ;  and  the  possession  of  a 
son  necessary,  to  pass  that  land  on  in  the  ancestral 
line.  Only  to  have  a  son  ;  only  to  prevent  the  old 
estate  passing-,  with  an  heiress,  into  the  hands  of 
strangers,  what  crimes  did  not  men  commit  in  those 
days,  and  find  themselves  excused  for  them  in 
public  opinion?  And  now,  her  other  children  (if 
she  ever  had  any)  had  died  in  childhood  ;  the  little 
Torfrida,  named  after  herself,  was  all  that  she  had 
brought  to  Hereward  ;  and  he  was  the  last  of  his 
house.  In  him  the  race  of  Leofric,  of  Godiva,  of 
Earl  Oslac,  would  become  extinct ;  and  that  girl 
would  marry — whom  ?  Whom  but  some  French  con- 
queror,— or  at  best  some  English  outlaw.  In  either 
case  Hereward  would  have  no  descendants  for  whom 
it  was  worth  his  while  to  labour  or  to  fight.  What 
wonder  if  he  longed  for  a  son, — and  not  a  son  of 
hers,  the  barren  tree, — to  pass  his  name  down  to 
future  generations?  It  might  be  worth  while,  for 
that,  to  come  in  to  the  king,  to  recover  his  lands, 

to .  She  saw  it  all  now,  and  her  heart  was  dead 

within  her. 

She  spent  that  evening,  neither  eating  nor  drinking, 
but  sitting  over  the  log  embers,  her  head  upon  her 
hands,  and  thinking  over  all  her  past  life  and  love, 
since  she  saw  him,  from  the  gable  window,  ride  the 
first  time  into  St.  Omer.  She  went  through  it  all, 
with  a  certain  stern  delight  in  the  self-torture,  deliber- 
ately day  by  day,  year  by  year, — all  its  lofty  aspirations, 
all  its  blissful  passages,  all  its  deep  disappointments, 
and  found  in  it, — ;so  she  chose  to  fancy  in  the  wilfulness 
of  her  misery,  nothing-  but  cause  for  remorse.  Self 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  483 

in  all,  vanity,  and  vexation  of  spirit ;  for  herself 
she  had  loved  him ;  for  herself  she  had  tried  to 
raise  him ;  for  herself  she  had  set  her  heart  on 
man,  and  not  on  God.  She  had  sown  the  wind : 
and  behold,  she  had  reaped  the  whirlwind.  She 
could  not  repent,  she  could  not  pray.  But  oh !  that 
she  could  die. 

She  was  unjust  to  herself,  in  her  great  nobleness. 
It  was  not  true,  not  half,  not  a  tenth  part  true.  But 
perhaps  it  was  good  for  her  th.it  it  should  seem  true, 
for  that  moment ;  that  she  should  be  emptied  of  all 
earthly  things  for  once,  if  so  she  might  be  filled  from 
above. 

At  last  she  went  into  the  inner  room  to  lie  down 
and  try  to  sleep.  At  her  feet,  under  the  perch 
where  Hereward's  armour  had  hung,  lay  an  open 
letter. 

She  picked  it  up,  surprised  at  seeing  such  a 
thing  there,  and  kneeling  down,  held  it  eagerly  to 
the  wax  candle  which  was  on  a  spike  at  the  bed's 
head. 

She  knew  the  handwriting  in  a  moment.  It  was 
Alftruda's. 

This,  then,  was  why  Hereward  had  been  so 
strangely  hurried.  He  must  have  had  that  letter 
and  dropped  it. 

Her  mind  and  eye  took  it  all  in  in  one  instant,  as 
the  lightning  flash  reveals  a  whole  landscape.  And 
then  her  mind  became  as  dark  as  that  landscape 
when  the  flash  is  past. 

It  congratulated  Hereward  on  having  shaken  him- 
self free  from  the  fascinations  of  that  sorceress.  It 
said  that  all  was  settled  with  King  William.  Hereward 
was  to  come  to  Winchester.  She  had  the  King's 
writ  for  his  safety  ready  to  send  to  him.  The 
King  would  receive  him  as  his  liegeman.  Alftruda 
would  receive  him  as  her  husband.  Archbishop 


484  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

Lanfranc  had  made  difficulties  about  the  dissolution 
of  the  marriage  with  Torfrida :  but  gold  would 
do  all  things  at  Rome ;  and  Lanfranc  was  her 
very  good  friend,  and  a  reasonable  man — and  so 
forth. 

Men,  and  beasts  likewise,  when  stricken  with 
a  mortal  wound,  will  run,  and  run  on,  blindly, 
aimless,  impelled  by  the  mere  instinct  of  escape 
from  intolerable  agony.  And  so  did  Torfrida. 
Half  undrest  as  she  was,  she  fled  forth  into  the 
forest,  she  knew  not  whither,  running  as  one  does 
wrapt  in  fire  :  but  the  fire  was  not  without  her,  but 
within. 

She  cast  a  passing  glance  at  the  girl  who  lay  by  her, 
sleeping  a  pure  and  gentle  sleep 

"  Oh,  that  thou  hadst  but  been  a  boy  !  "  Then  she 
thought  no  more  of  her,  not  even  of  Hereward :  but 
all  of  which  she  was  conscious  was  a  breast  and  brain 
bursting  ;  an  intolerable  choking,  from  which  she  must 
escape. 

She  ran,  and  ran  on,  for  miles.  She  knew  not 
whether  the  night  was  light  or  dark,  warm  or  cold. 
Her  tender  feet  might  have  been  ancle  deep  in  snow. 
The  branches  over  her  head  might  have  been  howling 
in  the  tempest,  or  dripping  with  rain.  She  knew  not, 
and  heeded  not.  The  owls  hooted  to  each  other  under 
the  staring  moon,  but  she  heard  them  not.  The 
wolves  glared  at  her  from  the  brakes,  and  slunk  off 
appalled  at  the  white  ghostly  figure  :  but  she  saw 
them  not.  The  deer  stood  at  gaze  in  the  glades 
till  she  was  close  upon  them,  and  then  bounded 
into  the  wood.  She  ran  right  at  them,  past  them 
heedless.  She  had  but  one  thought.  To  flee  from 
the  agony  of  a  soul  alone  in  the  universe  with  its 
own  misery. 

At  last  she  was  aware  of  a  man  close  beside  her. 
He  had  been  following  her  a  long  way,  she  recollected 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  485 

now  :  but  she  had  not  feared  him,  even  heeded  him. 
But  when  he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm,  she  turned 
fiercely  :  but  without  dread. 

She  looked  to  see  if  it  was  Here  ward.  To  meet  him 
would.be  death.  If  it  were  not  he  she  cared  not  who 
it  was.  It  was  not  Hereward  ;  and  she  cried  angrily, 
"  Off!  Off!"  and  hurried  on. 

"  But  you  are  going  the  wrong  way  !  The  wrong 
way  !  "  said  the  voice  of  Martin  Lightfoot. 

"The  wrong  way!  Fool,  which  is  the  right  way 
for  me,  save  the  path  which  leads  to  a  land  where  all 
is  forgotten  ?  " 

"To  Crowland  !  To  Crowland  !  To  the  minster! 
To  the  monks  !  That  is  the  only  right  way  for  poor 
wretches  in  a  world  like  this.  The  Lady  Godiva  told 
you  you  must  go  to  Crowland.  And  now  you  are 
going.  I  too,  I  ran  away  from  a  monastery  when 
I  was  young  ;  and  now  I  am  going  back.  Come 
along  ! " 

"You  are  right!  Crowland,  Crowland;  and 
a  nun's  cell  till  death.  Which  is  the  way, 
Martin  ?  " 

"Oh,  a  wise  lady!  A  reasonable  lady  !  But  you 
will  be  cold  before  you  get  thither.  There  will  be  a 
frost  ere  morn.  So  when  I  saw  you  run  out,  I  caught 
up  something  to  put  over  you." 

Torfrida  shuddered,  as  Martin  wrapt  her  in  the 
white  bear-skin. 

"No!  Not  that!  Anything  but  that!"  and  she 
struggled  to  shake  it  off. 

"Then  you  will  be  dead  ere  dawn.  Folks  that 
run  wild  in  the  forest  thus,  for  but  one  night, 
die." 

"Would  God  I  could  die!" 

"  That  shall  be  as  He  wills  ;  you  do  not  die  while 
Martin  can  keep  you  alive.  Why,  you  are  staggering 
already. " 


486  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Marftn  caught  her  up  in  his  arms,  threw  her  over 
his  shoulder  as  if  she  had  been  a  child,  and  hurried 
on,  in  the  strength  of  madness. 

*'  At  last  he  stopped  at  a  cottage  door,  set  her  down 
upon  the  turf,  and  knocked  loudly. 

"  Grimkel  Tolison  !     Grimkel,  I  say  !  " 

And  Martin  burst  the  door  open  with  his  foot. 

"Give  me  a  horse,  on  your  life,"  said  he  to  the 
man  inside.  "  I  am  Martin,  The  Wake's  man,  upon 
my  master's  business." 

"  What  is  mine  is  The  Wake's,  God  bless  him,"  said 
the  man,  struggling  into  a  garment,  and  hurrying  out 
to  the  shed. 

"There  is  a  ghost  against  the  gate!"  cried  he, 
recoiling. 

' '  That  is  my  matter,  not  yours.  Get  me  a  horse  to 
put  the  ghost  upon." 

Torfrida  lay  against  the  gate-post,  exhausted  now  : 
but  quite  unable  to  think.  Martin  lifted  her  on  to  the 
beast,  and  led  her  onward,  holding  her  up  again  and 
again. 

"  You  are  tired.  You  had  run  four  miles  before  I 
could  make  you  hear  me." 

"  Would  I  had  run  four  thousand ! "  And  she 
relapsed  into  stupor. 

They  passed  out  of  the  forest,  across  open  wolds, 
and  at  last  down  to  the  river.  Martin  knew  of  a  boat 
there.  He  lifted  her  from  the  horse,  turned  him  loose, 
put  Torfrida  into  the  boat,  and  took  the  oars. 

She  looked  up,  and  saw  the  roofs  of  Bourne  shining 
white  in  the  moonlight. 

And  then  she  lifted  up  her  voice,  and  shrieked  three 
times, 

"Lost!     Lost!     Lost!" 

with  such  a  dreadful  cry,  that  the  starlings  whirred  up 
from   the  reeds,  and  the  wild  fowl  rose  clanging  off 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  487 

the  meres,  and  the  watch-dogs  in  Bourne  and  Main- 
thorpe  barked  and  howled,  and  lolk  told  fearfully  next 
morning,  how  a  white  ghost  had  gone  down  from  the 
forest  to  the  fen,  and  wakened  them  with  its  unearthly 
scream. 

The  sun  was  high  when  they  came  to  Crowland 
minster.  Torfrida  had  neither  spoken  nor  stirred  ; 
and  Martin,  who  in  the  midst  of  his  madness  kept  a 
strange  courtesy  and  delicacy,  had  never  disturbed 
her,  save  to  wrap  the  bear-skin  more  closely  over  her. 

When  they  came  to  the  bank,  she  rose,  stepped  out 
without  his  help,  and  drawing  the  bear-skin  closely 
round  her,  and  over  her  head,  walked  straight  up  to 
the  gate  of  the  house  of  nuns. 

All  men  wondered  at  the  white  ghost :  but  Martin 
walked  behind  her,  his  left  finger  on  his  lips,  his  right 
hand  grasping  his  little  axe,  with  such  a  stern  and 
serious  face,  and  so  fierce  an  eye,  that  all  drew  back 
in  silence,  and  let  her  pass. 

The  portress  looked  through  the  wicket. 

"I  am  Torfrida,"  said  a  voice  of  terrible  calm.  "  I 
am  come  to  see  the  Lady  Godiva.  Let  me  in." 

The  portress  opened,  utterly  astounded. 

"  Madam ! "  said  Martin  eagerly,  as  Torfrida 
entered. 

"What?  What?"  she  seemed  to  waken  from  a 
dream.  "God  bless  thee,  thou  good  and  faithful 
servant ; "  and  she  turned  again. 

"  Madam  1     Say  !  " 

"What?" 

"  Shall  I  go  back,  and  kill  him  ?  "  And  he  held  out 
the  little  axe. 

Torfrida  snatched  it  from  his  grasp  with  a  shriek, 
and  cast  it  inside  the  convent  door. 

"  Mother  Mary  and  all  saints  !  "  cried  the  portress, 
"  your  garments  are  in  rags,  madam  !  " 

"Never  mind.     Bring   me  garments  of  yours.     I 


488  HE  RE  WARD   THE  WAKE. 

shall  need  none  other  till  I  die  ! "  and  she  walked  in 
and  on. 

"  She  is  come  to  be  a  nun  !  "  whispered  the  portress 
to  the  next  sister,  and  she  again  to  the  next ;  and  they 
all  gabbled,  and  lifted  up  their  hands  and  eyes,  and 
thanked  all  the  saints  of  the  calendar,  over  the  blessed 
and  miraculous  conversion  of  the  Lady  Torfrida,  and 
the  wealth  which  she  would  probably  bring  to  the 
convent. 

Torfrida  went  straight  on,  speaking  to  no  one, 
not  even  to  the  prioress ;  and  into  Lady  Godiva's 
chamber. 

There  she  dropped  at  the  countess's  feet,  and  laid 
her  head  upon  her  knees. 

"I  am  come,  as  you  always  told  me  I  should  do. 
But  it  has  been  a  long  way  hither,  and  I  am  very 
tired." 

"My  child!  What  is  this?  What  brings  you 
here?" 

"  I  am  doing  penance  for  my  sins." 

"  And  your  feet  all  cut  and  bleeding." 

"Are  they?"  said  Torfrida  vacantly.  "I  will  tell 
you  all  about  it  when  I  wake." 

And  she  fell  fast  asleep,  with  her  head  in  Godiva's 
lap. 

The  countess  did  not  speak  or  stir.  She  beckoned 
the  good  prioress,  who  had  followed  Torfrida  in,  to 
go  away.  She  saw  that  something  dreadful  had 
happened  ;  and  prayed  as  she  awaited  the  news. 

Torfrida  slept  for  a  full  hour.  Then  she  awoke 
with  a  start. 

' '  Where  am  I  ?     Hereward  ! " 

Then  followed  a  dreadful  shriek,  which  made 
every  nun  in  that  quiet  house  shudder,  and  thank 
God  that  she  knew  nothing  of  those  agonies  of 
soul,  which  were  the  lot  of  the  foolish  virgins  who 
married  and  were  given  in  marriage  themselves, 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  489 

instead  of  waiting  with  oil  in  their  lamps  for  the  true 
Bridegroom. 

"I  recollect  all  now,"  said  Torfrida.  "Listen!" 
And  she  told  the  countess  all,  with  speech  so  calm 
and  clear,  that  Godiva  was  awed  by  the  power  and 
spirit  of  that  marvellous  woman. 

But  she  groaned  in  bitterness  of  soul.  "Anything 
but  this.  Rather  death  from  him  than  treachery. 
This  last,  worst  woe  had  God  kept  in  his  quiver 
for  me  most  miserable  of  women.  And  now  his 
bolt  has  fallen !  Hereward !  Hereward  !  That 
thy  mother  should  wish  her  last  child  laid  in  his 
grave  ! " 

"  Not  so,"  said  Torfrida,  "  it  is  well  as  it  is.  How 
better?  It  is  his  only  chance  for  comfort,  for  honour, 
for  life  itself.  He  would  have  grown  a 1  was  grow- 
ing bad  and  foul  myself  in  that  ugly  wilderness.  Now 
he  will  be  a  knight  once  more  among  knights,  and  win 
himself  fresh  honour  in  fresh  fields.  Let  him  marry 
her.  Why  not  ?  He  can  get  a  dispensation  from  the 
Pope,  and  then  there  will  be  no  sin  in  it,  you  know. 
If  the  Holy  Father  cannot  make  wrong  right,  who 
can  ?  Yes.  It  is  very  well  as  it  is.  And  I  am  very 
well  where  I  am.  Women  !  Bring  me  scissors,  and 
one  of  your  nun's  dresses.  I  am  come  to  be  a  nun 
like  you." 

Godiva  would  have  stopped  her.  But  Torfrida 
rose  upon  her  knees,  and  calmly  made  a  solemn 
vow,  which  though  canonically  void  without  her 
husband's  consent,  would,  she  well  knew,  never  be 
disputed  by  any  there  and  as  for  him, — "  He  has 
lost  me  ;  and  for  ever.  Torfrida  never  gives  herself 
away  twice." 

"There's  carnal  pride  in  those  words,  my  poor 
child,"  said  Godiva. 

"  Cruel ! "  said  she  proudly.  "  When  I  am  sacnnc- 
ing  myself  utterly  for  him." 


490  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

"  And  thy  poor  girl  ?  " 

"  He  will  let  her  come  hither,"  said  Torfrida,  with 
forced  calm.  "  He  will  see  that  it  is  not  fit  that  she 
should  grow  up  with — yes,  he  will  send  her  to  me — to 
us.  And  I  shall  live  for  her — and  for  you.  If  you  will 
let  me  be  your  bower  woman,  dress  you,  serve  you, 
read  to  you.  You  know  that  I  am  a  pretty  scholar. 
You  will  let  me,  mother?  I  may  call  you  mother, 
may  I  not  ?  "  And  Torfrida  fondled  the  old  woman's 
thin  hands.  "  For  I  do  want  so  much  something  to 
love." 

"  Love  thy  heavenly  Bridegroom,  the  only  love 
worthy  of  woman  !  "  said  Godiva,  as  her  tears  fell  fast 
on  Torfrida's  head. 

She  gave  a  half-impatient  toss. 

"  That  may  come,  in  good  time.  As  yet  it  is  enough 
to  do,  if  I  can  keep  down  this  devil  here  in  my  throat. 
Women,  bring  me  the  scissors." 

And  Torfrida  cut  off  her  raven  locks,  now  streaked 
with  gray ;  and  put  on  the  nun's  dress,  and  became  a 
nun  thenceforth. 

On  the  second  day  there  came  to  Crowland  Leofric 
the  priest,  and  with  him  the  poor  child. 

She  had  woke  in  the  morning  and  found  no  mother. 
Leofric  and  the  other  men  searched  the  woods  round, 
far  and  wide.  The  girl  mounted  her  horse,  and  would 
go  with  them.  Then  they  took  a  bloodhound,  and  he 
led  them  to  Grimkel's  hut.  There  they  heard  of 
Martin.  The  ghost  must  have  been  Torfrida.  Then 
the  hound  brought  them  to  the  river.  And  they 
divined  at  once  that  she  was  gone  to  Crowland,  to 
Godiva  :  but  why,  they  could  not  guess. 

Then  the  girl  insisted,  prayed,  at  last  commanded 
them  to  take  her  to  Crowland.  And  to  Crowland 
they  came. 

=    Leofric  left  the  girl  at  the  nuns'  house  door,  and 
went  into  the  monastery,  where  he  had  friends  enow, 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  491 

runaway  and  renegade  as  he  was.  As  he  came  into 
the  great  court,  whom  should  he  meet  but  Martin 
Lightfoot,  in  a  lay  brother's  frock. 

"Aha?  And  are  you  come  home  likewise? 
Have  you  renounced  the  devil  and  this  last  work 
of  his  ?  " 

"  What  work  ?  What  devil  ?  "  asked  Leofric,  who 
saw  method  in  Martin's  madness.  "And  what  do 
you  here  in  a  long  frock  ?  " 

"  Devil  ?  Hereward  the  devil.  I  would  have  killed 
him  with  my  axe  :  but  she  got  it  from  me,  and  threw 
it  in  among  the  holy  sisters,  and  I  had  work  to  get 
it  again.  Shame  on  her,  to  spoil  my  chance  of 
heaven.  For  I  should  surely  have  won  heaven,  you 
know,  if  I  had  killed  the  devil." 

After  much  beating  about,  Leofric  got  from  Martin 
the  whole  tragedy. 

And  when  he  heard  it,  he  burst  out  weeping1. 

"  Oh,  Hereward,  Hereward !  Oh,  knightly  honour ! 
Oh,  faith  and  troth,  and  gratitude,  and  love  in  return 
for  such  love  as  might  have  tamed  lions,  and  made 
tyrants  mild  !  Are  they  all  carnal  vanities,  works  of 
the  weak  flesh,  bruised  reeds  which  break  when  they 
are  leaned  upon  ?  If  so,  you  are  right,  Martin  ;  and 
there  is  naught  left,  but  to  flee  from  a  world  in  which 
all  men  are  liars." 

And  Leofric,  in  the  midst  of  Crowland  Yard,  tore 
off  his  belt  and  trusty  sword,  his  hauberk  and  helm 
also,  and  letting  down  his  monk's  frock,  which  he 
wore  trussed  to  the  mid-knee,  he  went  to  the  abbot's 
lodgings,  and  asked  to  see  old  Ulfketyl. 

"  Bring  him  up,"  said  the  good  abbot,  "  for  he  is 
a  valiant  man  and  true,  in  spite  of  all  his  vanities ; 
and  may  be,  he  brings  news  of  Hereward,  whom  God 
forgive." 

And  when  Leofric  came  in,  he  fell  upon  his  knees, 
bewailing  and  confessing  his  sinful  life  ;  and  begged 


492  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

the  abbot  to  take  him  back  again  into  Crowland 
minster,  and  lay  upon  him  what  penance  he  thought 
fit,  and  put  him  in  the  lowest  office,  because  he  was  a 
man  of  blood  ;  if  only  he  might  stay  there,  and  have 
a  sight  at  times  of  his  dear  Lady  Torfrida,  without 
whom  he  should  surely  die. 

So  Leofric  was  received  back,  in  full  chapter,  by 
abbot,  and  prior,  and  all  the  monks.  But  when  he 
asked  them  to  lay  a  penance  upon  him,  Ulfketyl  arose 
from  his  high  chair,  and  spoke. 

"  Shall  we,  who  have  sat  here  at  ease,  lay  a 
penance  on  this  man,  who  has  shed  his  blood  in  fifty 
valiant  fights  for  us,  and  for  St.  Guthlac,  and  for  this 
English  land  ?  Look  at  yon  scars  upon  his  head  and 
arms.  He  has  had  sharper  discipline  from  cold  steel 
than  we  could  give  him  here  with  rod  ;  and  has  fasted 
in  the  wilderness  more  sorely,  many  a  time,  than  we 
have  fasted  here." 

And  all  the  monks  agreed,  that  no  penance  should 
be  laid  on  Leofric.  Only  that  he  should  abstain  from 
singing  vain  and  carnal  ballads,  which  turned  the 
heads  of  the  young  brothers,  and  made  them  dream 
of  naught  but  battles,  and  giants,  and  enchanters, 
and  ladies'  love. 

Hereward  came  back  on  the  third  day,  and  found 
his  wife  and  daughter  gone.  His  guilty  conscience 
told  him  in  the  first  instance  why.  For  he  went  into 
the  chamber,  and  there,  upon  the  floor,  lay  the  letter 
which  he  had  looked  for  in  vain. 

None  had  touched  it  where  it  lay.  Perhaps  no  one 
had  dared  to  enter  the  chamber.  If  they  had,  they 
would  not  have  dared  to  meddle  with  writing,  which 
they  could  not  read,  and  which  might  contain  some 
magic  spell.  Letters  were  very  safe  in  those  old  days. 

There  are  moods  of  man  which  no  one  will  dare  to 
describe,  unless  like  Shakespeare,  he  is  Shakespeare, 
and  like  Shakespeare  knows  it  not. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  493 

Therefore  what  Herevvard  thought  and  felt  will  not 
be  told.  What  he  did,  was  this. 

He  raged  and  blustered.  He  must  hide  his  shame. 
He  must  justify  himself  to  his  knights  ;  and  much 
more  to  himself:  or  if  not  justify  himself,  must  shift 
some  of  the  blame  over  to  the  opposite  side.  So  he 
raged  and  blustered.  He  had  been  robbed  of  his  wife 
and  daughter.  They  had  been  cajoled  away  by  the 
monks  of  Crowland.  What  villains  were  those  to  rob 
an  honest  man  of  his  family  while  he  was  fighting  for 
his  country  ? 

So  he  rode  down  to  the  river,  and  there  took  two 
great  barges,  and  rowed  away  to  Crowland,  with 
forty  men-at-arms. 

And  all  the  while  he  thought  of  Alftruda,  as  he  had 
seen  her  at  Peterborough. 

And  of  no  one  else  ? 

Not  so.  For  all  the  while  he  felt  that  he  loved 
Torfrida's  little  finger  better  than  Alftruda's  whole 
body,  and  soul  into  the  bargain. 

What  a  long  way  it  was  to  Crowland.  How 
wearying  were  the  hours  through  mere  and  ea. 
How  wearying  the  monotonous  pulse  of  the  oars.  If 
tobacco  had  been  known  then,  Hereward  would  have 
smoked  all  the  way,  and  been  none  the  wiser,  though 
the  happier,  for  it ;  for  the  herb  that  drives  away  the 
evil  spirits  of  anxiety,  drives  away  also  the  good, 
though  stern,  spirits  of  remorse. 

But  in  those  days  a  man  could  only  escape  facts 
by  drinking  ;  and  Hereward  was  too  much  afraid  of 
what  he  should  meet  in  Crowland,  to  go  thither 
drunk. 

Sometimes  he  hoped  that  Torfrida  might  hold  her 
purpose,  and  set  him  free  to  follow  his  wicked  will. 
All  the  lower  nature  in  him,  so  long  crushed  under, 
leapt  up  chuckling  and  grinning  and  tumbling  head 
over  heels,  and  cried — Now  I  shall  have  a  holiday! 


494  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Sometimes  he  hoped  that  Torfrida  might  come  out 
to  the  shore,  and  settle  the  matter  in  one  moment,  by 
a  glance  of  her  great  hawk's  eyes.  If  she  would  but 
quell  him  by  one  look  ;  leap  on  board,  seize  the  helm, 
and  assume  without  a  word  the  command  of  his  men 
and  him  ;  steer  them  back  to  Bourne,  and  sit  down 
beside  him  with  a  kiss,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
If  she  would  but  do  that,  and  ignore  the  past,  would 
he  not  ignore  it  ?  Would  he  not  forget  Alftruda,  and 
King  William,  and  all  the  world,  and  go  up  with 
her  into  Sherwood,  and  then  north  to  Scotland  and 
Gospatric,  and  be  a  man  once  more  ? 

No.  He  would  go  with  her  to  the  Baltic 
or  the  Mediterranean.  Constantinople  and  the 
Varangers  would  be  the  place  and  the  men.  Ay, 
there  to  escape  out  of  that  charmed  ring  into  a 
new  life. 

No.  He  did  not  deserve  such  luck  ;  and  he  would 
not  get  it.  She  would  talk  it  all  out.  She  must,  for 
she  was  a  woman.  She  would  blame,  argue,  say 
dreadful  words — dreadful,  because  true  and  deserved. 
Then  she  would  grow  angry,  as  women  do  when  they 
are  most  in  the  right,  and  say  too  much — still  more 
dreadful  words,  which  would  be  untrue  and  undeserved. 
Then  he  should  resist,  recriminate.  He  would  not 
stand  it.  He  could  not  stand  it.  No.  He  could 
never  face  her  again. 

And  yet  if  he  had  seen  a  man  insult  her — if  he  had 
seen  her  at  that  moment  in  peril  of  the  slightest 
danger,  the  slightest  bruise,  he  would  have  rushed 
forward  like  a  madman,  and  died,  saving  her  from 
that  bruise.  And  he  knew  that :  and  with  the  strange 
self-contradiction  of  human  nature,  he  soothed  his  own 
conscience  by  the  thought  that  he  loved  her  still ;  and 
that,  therefore — somehow  or  other,  he  cared  not  to 
make  out  how — he  had  done  her  no  wrong.  Then  he 
blustered  again,  for  the  benefit  of  his  men.  He  would 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  495 

teach  these  monks  of  Crowland  a  lesson.  He  would 
burn  the  minster  over  their  heads. 

"That  would  be  pity,  seeing  they  are  the  only 
Englishmen  left  in  England,"  said  Siward  the  White, 
his  nephew,  very  simply. 

"  What  is  that  to  thee?  Thou  hast  helped  to  burn 
Peterborough  at  my  bidding ;  and  thou  shalt  help  to 
burn  Crowland."  , 

"  I  am  a  free  gentleman  of  England ;  and  what  I 
choose,  I  do.  I  and  my  brother  are  going  to  Constan- 
tinople to  join  the  Varanger  guard,  and  shall  not  burn 
Crowland,  or  let  any  man  burn  it." 

"Shall  not  let?" 

"No,"  said  the  young  man,  so  quietly,  that  Here- 
ward  was  cowed. 

"  I — I  only  meant — if  they  did  not  do  right  by  me." 

"  Do  right  thyself,"  said  Siward. 

Hereward  swore  awfully,  and  laid  his  hand  on  his 
sword-hilt.  But  he  did  not  draw  it ;  for  he  thought 
he  saw  overhead  a  cloud  which  was  very  like  the 
figure  of  St.  Guthlac  in  Crowland  window,  and  an 
awe  fell  upon  him  from  above. 

So  they  came  to  Crowland ;  and  Hereward  landed 
and  beat  upon  the  gates,  and  spoke  high  words.  But 
the  monks  did  not  open  the  gates  for  awhile.  At  last 
the  gates  creaked,  and  opened  ;  and  in  the  gateway 
stood  Abbot  Ulfketyl  in  his  robes  of  state,  and  behind 
him  the  Prior,  and  all  the  officers,  and  all  the  monks 
of  the  house. 

" Comes  Hereward  in  peace  or  in  war?*' 

"  In  war  !  "  said  Hereward. 

Then  that  true  and  trusty  old  man,  who  sealed  his 
patriotism,  if  not  with  his  blood — for  the  very  Normans 
had  not  the  heart  to  take  that — still  with  long  and 
bitter  sorrows,  lifted  up  his  head,  and  said,  like  a 
valiant  Dane,  as  his  name  bespoke  him,  "  Against  the 
traitor  and  the  adulterer " 


4g6  HEREWARD  THE    WAKE. 

"  I  am  neither,"  roared  Here  ward. 

"  Thou  wouldst  be,  if  thou  couldst.  Who  so  looketh 
upon  a  woman  to " 

"Preach  me  no  sermons,  man  !  Let  me  in  to  seek 
my  wife." 

"Over  my  body,"  said  Ulfketyl,  and  laid  himself 
down  across  the  threshold. 

Hereward  recoiled.  If  he  had  dared  to  step  over 
that  sacred  body,  there  was  not  a  blood-stained  ruffian 
in  his  crew  who  dared  to  follow  him. 

"  Rise,  rise  !  for  God's  sake,  Lord  Abbot,"  said  he. 
"Whatever  I  am,  I  need  not  that  you  should  dis- 
grace me  thus.  Only  let  me  see  her — reason  with 
her." 

"She  has  vowed  herself  to  God,  and  is  none  of 
thine  henceforth." 

"  It  is  against  the  canons.    A  wrong  and  a  robbery." 

Ulfketyl  rose,  grand  as  ever. 

"  Hereward  Leofricsson,  our  joy  and  our  glory  once. 
Hearken  to  the  old  man  who  will  soon  go  whither 
thine  uncle  Brand  is  gone,  and  be  free  of  Frenchmen, 
and  of  all  this  wicked  world.  When  the  walls  of 
Crowland  dare  not  shelter  the  wronged  woman, 
fleeing  from  man's  treason  to  God's  faithfulness,  then 
let  the  roofs  of  Crowland  burn  till  the  flame  reaches 
heaven,  for  a  sign  that  the  children  of  God  are  as 
false  as  the  children  of  this  world,  and  break  their 
faith  like  any  belted  knight." 

Hereward  was  silenced.  His  men  shrank  back 
from  him.  He  felt  as  if  God,  and  the  mother  of 
God,  and  St.  Guthlac,  and  all  the  host  of  heaven, 
were  shrinking  back  from  him  likewise.  He 
turned  to  supplications,  compromises — what  else  was 
left. 

"At  least  you  will  let  me  have  speech  of  her,  or 
of  my  mother  ?  " 

"They  must  answer  that,  not  I." 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE  497 

Hereward  sent  in,  entreating  to  see  one,  or  both. 

"Tell  him,"  said  Lady  Godiva,  "who  calls  himself 
my  son,  that  my  sons  were  men  of  honour,  and  that 
he  must  have  been  changed  at  nurse." 

"Tell  him,"  said  Torfrida,  "that  I  have  lived  my 
life,  and  am  dead.  Dead.  If  he  would  see  me,  he 
will  only  see  my  corpse." 

"  You  would  not  slay  yourself?" 

"What  is  there  that  I  dare  not  do?  Vou  do  not 
know  Torfrida.  He  does." 

And  Hereward  did  ;  and  went  back  again  like  a 
man  stunned. 

After  awhile  there  came  by  boat  to  Crowland  all 
Torfrida's  wealth  ;  clothes,  jewels :  not  a  shred  had 
Hereward  kept.  The  magic  armour  came  with 
them. 

Torfrida  gave  all  to  the  abbey,  there  and  then. 
Only  the  armour  she  wrapped  up  in  the  white 
bear's  skin,  and  sent  it  back  to  Hereward,  with  her 
blessing,  and  entreaty  not  to  refuse  that,  her  last 
bequest. 

Hereward  did  not  refuse,  for  very  shame.     But  for 
very  shame  he  never  wore  that  armour  more.     For 
very  shame  he  never  slept  again  upon  the  white  bear' 
skin,  on  which  he  and  his  true  love  had  lain  so  many 
a  year. 

And  Torfrida  turned  herself  utterly  to  serve  the  Lady 
Godiva,  and  to  teach  and  train  her  child  as  she  had 
never  done  before,  while  she  had  to  love  Hereward, 
and  to  work  day  and  night,  with  her  own  fingers,  for 
all  his  men.  All  pride,  all  fierceness,  all  care  of  self, 
had  passed  away  from  her.  In  penitence,  humility, 
obedience,  and  gentleness,  she  went  on  :  never  smiling : 
but  never  weeping.  Her  heart  was  broken  ;  and  she 
felt  it  good  for  herself  to  let  it  break. 

And  Leofric  the  priest,  and  mad  Martin  Lightfoot, 
watched  like  two  dogs  for  her  going  out  and  coming 


498  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

in  ;  and  when  she  went  among  the  old  corrodiers, 
and  nursed  the  sick,  and  taught  the  children,  and 
went  to  and  fro  upon  her  holy  errands,  blessing-  and 
blessed,  the  two  wild  men  had  a  word  from  her  mouth, 
or  a  kiss  of  her  hand,  and  were  happy  all  the  day 
after.  For  they  loved  her  with  a  love  mightier  than 
ever  Hereward  had  heaped  upon  her ;  for  she  had 
given  him  all ;  but  she  had  given  those  two  wild  men 
naught  but  the  beatific  vision  of  a  noble  woman. 


HE  REWARD  THE   WAKE.  499 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

HOW   HEREWARD    LOST   SWORD    BRAINBITER. 

"ON  account  of  which,"  says  the  chronicler,  "many 
troubles  came  to  Hereward :  because  Torfrida 
was  most  wise,  and  of  great  counsel  in  need. 
For  afterwards,  as  he  himself  confessed,  things 
went  not  so  well  with  him  as  they  did  in  her 
time." 

And  the  first  thing  that  went  ill  was  this.  He 
was  riding  through  the  Bruneswald,  and  behind 
him  Gery,  Wenoch,  and  Matelgar,  these  three. 
And  there  met  him  in  an  open  glade  a  knight, 
the  biggest  man  he  had  ever  seen,  on  the  biggest 
horse,  and  five  knights  behind  him.  He  was  an 
Englishman,  and  not  a  Frenchman,  by  his  dress ; 
and  Hereward  spoke  courteously  enough  to  him. 
But  who  he  was,  and  what  his  business  was  in  the 
Bruneswald,  Hereward  thought  that  he  had  a  right 
to  ask. 

"Tell  me  who  thou  art  who  askest,  before 
I  tell  thee  who  I  am  who  am  asked,  riding  here 
on  common  land,"  quoth  the  knight,  surlily 
enough. 

"  I  am  Hereward,  without  whose  leave  no 
man  has  ridden  the  Bruneswald  for  many  a 

day." 

"  And  I  am  Letwold  the  Englishman,  who  rides 
whither  he  will  in  merry  England,  without  care  for  any 
Frenchman  upon  earth.'* 


500  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

"Frenchman?  Why  callest  thou  me  Frenchman, 
man?  I  am  Hereward." 

"Then  thou  art,  if  ;ales  be  true,  as  French 
as  Ivo  Taillebois.  I  hear  that  thou  hast  left 
thy  true  lady,  like  a  fool  and  a  churl,  and  goest 
to  London,  or  Winchester,  or  the  nether  pit  —  I 
care  not  which  —  to  make  thy  peace  with  The 
Mamzer." 

The  man  was  a  surly  brute  :  but  what  he  said  was 
so  true,  that  Hereward's  wrath  arose.  He  had 
promised  Torfrida  many  a  time,  never  to  quarrel  with 
an  Englishman,  but  to  endure  all  things.  Now,  out 
of  very  spite  to  Torfrida's  counsel,  because  it  was 
Torfrida's,  and  he  had  promised  to  obey  it,  he  took 
up  the  quarrel. 

"If  I  am  a  fool  and  a  churl,  thou  art  a 
greater  fool,  to  provoke  thine  own  death ;  and  a 
greater " 

"Spare  your  breath,"  said  the  big  man, 
"and  let  me  try  Hereward,  as  I  have  many 
another." 

Whereon  they  dropped  their  lance-points,  and 
rode  at  each  other  like  two  mad  bulls.  And,  by  the 
contagion  of  folly  common  in  the  middle  age,  at  each 
other  rode  Hereward's  three  knights  and  Letwold's 
five.  The  two  leaders  found  themselves  both  rolling 
on  the  ground  ;  jumped  up,  drew  their  swords,  and 
hewed  away  at  each  other.  Gery  unhorsed  his  man  at 
the  first  charge,  and  left  him  stunned.  Then  he  turned 
on  another,  and  did  the  same  by  him.  Wenoch  and  i 
Matelgar  each  overthrew  their  man.  The  fifth  of 
Letwold's  knights  threw  up  his  lance-point,  not  liking  ^ 
his  new  company.  Gery  and  the  other  two  rode  in  on 
the  two  chiefs,  who  were  fighting  hard,  each  under 
shield. 

"Stand  back!"  roared  Hereward,  "and  give  the 
knight  fair  play  I  When  did  any  one  of  us  want  a 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  501 

man  to  help  him  ?     Kill  or  die  single,  has  been  our 
rule,  and  shall  be." 

They  threw  up  their  lance-points,  and  stood  round 
to  see  that  great  fight.  Letwold's  knight  rode 
in  among  them,  and  stood  likewise ;  and  friend 
and  foe  looked  on,  as  they  might  at  a  pair  of  game 
cocks. 

Hereward  had,  to  his  own  surprise  and  that 
of  his  fellows,  met  his  match.  The  sparks  flew, 
the  iron  clanged  :  but  so  heavy  were  the  stranger's 
strokes,  that  Hereward  reeled  again  and  again. 
So  sure  was  the  guard  of  his  shield,  that  Here- 
ward could  not  wound  him,  hit  where  he  would. 
At  last  he  dealt  a  furious  blow  on  the  stranger's 
head. 

"  If  that  does  not  bring  your  master  down  !  "  quoth 
Gery.  "By ,  Brainbiter  is  gone  !  " 

It  was  too  true.  Sword  Brainbiter's  end  was  come. 
The  Ogre's  magic  blade  had  snapt  off  short  by 
the  hilt. 

"Your  master  is  a  true  Englishman,  by  the 
hardness  of  his  brains,"  quoth  Wenoch,  as  the 
stranger,  reeling  for  a  moment,  lifted  up  his  head, 
and  stared  at  Hereward  in  the  face,  doubtful  what 
to  do. 

"  Will  you  yield,  or  fight  on  ?  "  cried  he. 

"  Yield?  "  shouted  Hereward,  rushing  upon  him,  as 
a  mastiff  might  on  a  lion,  and  striking  at  his  helm, 
though  shorter  than  him  by  a  head  and  shoulders, 
such  swift  and  terrible  blows  with  the  broken  hilt,  as 
staggered  the  tall  stranger. 

"  What  are  you  at,  forgetting  what  you  have  at 
your  side  ?  "  roared  Gery. 

Hereward  sprang  back.  He  had,  as  was  his  custom, 
a  second  sword  on  his  right  thigh. 

"  I  forget  everything  now,"  said  he  to  himself 
angrily. 


502 


HE  REWARD   THE   WAKE. 


And  that  was  too  true.     But  he  drew  the  secot 
sword,  and  sprang  at  his  man  once  more. 

The   stranger  tried,    according-    to   the  chroni 
who   probably    had    it    from   one    of  the    three 
standers,   a  blow  which  has  cost  many  a  brave  mz 
his    life.       He    struck    right    down    on    Hereward's 
head.      Hereward    raised    his    shield,    warding 
stroke,    and    threw    in    that   coup    de  Jarret,    wht 
there  is  no  guarding,  after  the  downright  blow  hj 
been     given.       The     stranger     dropped     upon 
wounded  knee. 

"  Yield,"  cried  Hereward  in  his  turn. 

"  That  is  not  my  fashion."     And  the  stranger  fought 
on   upon   his    stumps,    like    Witherington   in    Ch 
Chase. 

Hereward,  mad  with  the  sight  of  blood,  struck 
him  four  or  five  times.      The  stranger's  guard 
so  quick  that  he  could  not  hit  him,  even  on  his  knee.) 
He  held  his  hand,  and   drew  back,  looking  at   his 
new  rival. 

"What  the  murrain  are  we  two  fighting  about?  " 
said  he  at  last. 

"I  know  not;  neither  care,"  said  the  other, j 
with  a  gnm  chuckle.  "  But  if  any  man  will  fight] 
me,  him  I  fight,  ever  since  I  had  beard  to  mi 
chin." 

"Thou  art  the  best  man  that  ever  I  faced." 

"That  is  like  enough." 

"  What  wilt  thou  take,  if  I  give  thee  thy  life  ?  " 

"  My  way  on  which  I  was  going.     For  I  turn 
for  no  man  alive  on  land." 

"  Then  thou  hast  not  had  enough  of  me  ?  " 

"  Not  by  another  hour." 

"Thou     must    be     born     of    fiend,    and    not     ot 
man." 

"Very   like.     It   is    a   wise    son    knows   his   ow 
fetter  " 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  503 

Here  ward  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Would  to  heaven  I  had  had  thee  for  my  man  this 
three  years  since." 

"Perhaps  I  would  not  have  been  thy  man." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  I  have  been  my  own  man  ever  since  I. 
ivas  born,  and  am  well  content  with  myself  for  my 
master." 

"Shall  I  bind  up  thy  leg?"  asked  Hereward, 
having  no  more  to  say,  and  not  wishing  to  kill  the 
man. 

"No.  It  will  grow  again,  like  a  crab's 
claw." 

"Thou  art  a  fiend."  And  Hereward  turned  away, 
sulky,  and  half  afraid. 

"Very  like.  No  man  knows  what  a  devil  he  is, 
till  he  tries." 

"  What  dost  mean  ?  "  and  Hereward  turned  angrily 
back. 

"  Fiends  we  are  all,  till  God's  grace  comes." 

"  Little  grace  has  come  to  thee  yet,  by  thy  un- 
gracious tongue." 

"  Rough  to  men,  may  be  gracious  to  women." 

"What  hast  thou  to  do  with  women?"  asked 
Hereward  fiercely. 

"  I  have  a  wife,  and  I  love  her." 

"Thou  art  not  like  to  get  back  to  her 
to-day." 

"  I  fear  not,  with  this  paltry  scratch.  I  had  locked 
for  a  cut  from  thee,  would  have  saved  me  all  fighting 
henceforth." 

"  What  dost  mean  ?  "  asked  Hereward  with  an  oath. 

"That  my  wife  is  in  heaven,  and  I  would  needs 
follow  her." 

Hereward  got  on  his  horse,  and  rode  away. 
Never  could  he  find  out  who  that  Sir  Letwo'd  was, 
or  how  he  came  into  the  Bruneswald.  All  he  kaew 


504  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

was,  that  he  never  had  had  such  a  fight  since  he 
wore  beard  ;  and  that  he  had  lost  sword  Brain- 
biter  :  from  which  his  evil  conscience  augured  that 
his  luck  had  turned,  and  that  he  should  lose  many 
things  beside. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  505 

CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

HOW    HEREWARD   CAME   IN   TO   THE    KINO. 

AFTER  these  things  Hereward  summoned  all 
his  men,  and  set  before  them  the  hopelessness 
of  any  further  resistance,  and  the  promises  of 
amnesty,  lands,  and  honours  which  William  had 
offered  him  ;  and  persuaded  them — and  indeed  he 
had  good  arguments  enough  and  to  spare — that 
they  should  go  and  make  their  peace  with  tl.e 
king. 

They  were  so  accustomed  to  look  up  to  his 
determination,  that  when  it  gave  way  theirs  gave 
way  likewise.  They  were  so  accustomed  to  trust 
his  wisdom,  that  most  of  them  yielded  at  once  to 
his  arguments. 

That  the  band  should  break  up,  all  agreed.  A  few 
of  the  more  suspicious,  or  more  desperate,  said  that 
they  could  never  trust  the  Frenchman  ;  that  Hereward 
himself  had  warned  them  again  and  again  of  his 
treachery ;  that  he  was  now  going  to  do  himself 
what  he  had  laughed  at  Gospatric  and  the  rest  for 
doing ;  what  had  brought  ruin  on  Edwin  and 
Morcar ;  what  he  had  again  and  again  prophesied 
would  bring  ruin  on  Waltheof  himself  ere  all  was 
over. 

But  Hereward  was  deaf  to  their  arguments.  He 
had  said  as  little  to  them  as  he  could  about  Alftiuda, 
for  very  shame  :  but  he  was  utterly  besotted  on  her. 
For  her  sake,  he  had  determined  to  run  his  head 
blindly  into  the  very  snare  of  which  he  had  warned 
others.  And  he  had  seared  —  so  he  fancied  —  his 


506  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

conscience.  It  was  Torfrida's  fault  now,  not  his. 
If  she  left  him — if  she  herself  freed  him  of  her  own 
will — why,  he  was  free,  and  there  was  no  more  to  be 
said  about  it. 

And  Hereward  (says  the  chronicler)  took 
Gwenoch,  Gery,  and  Matelgar,  and  rode  south  to 
the  king. 

Where  were  the  two  young  Siwards?  It  is  not 
said.  Probably  they,  and  a  few  desperadoes,  followed 
the  fashion  of  so  many  English  in  those  sad  days—- 
when, as  sings  the  Norse  scald, 

Cold  heart  and  bloody  hand 
Now  rule  English  land, 

and  took  ship  for  Constantinople,  and  enlisted  in  the 
Varanger-guard,  and  died  full  of  years  and  honours, 
leaving  fair-haired  children  behind  them,  to  become 
Varangers  in  their  turn. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  Hereward  rode  south.  But  when 
he  had  gotten  a  long  way  upon  the  road,  a  fancy 
(says  the  chronicler)  came  over  him.  He  was  not 
going  in  pomp  and  glory  enough.  It  seemed  mean 
for  the  once  great  Hereward  to  sneak  into  Winchester 
with  three  knights.  Perhaps  it  seemed  not  over  safe 
for  the  once  great  Hereward  to  travel  with  only  three 
knights.  So  he  went  back  all  the  way  to  camp,  and 
took  (says  the  chronicler)  "  forty  most  famous  knights, 
all  big  and  tall  of  stature,  and  splendid — if  from 
nothing  else,  from  their  looks  and  their  harness 
alone." 

So  Hereward  and  those  forty  knights  rode  down 
from  Peterborough,  along  the  Roman  road.  For  the 
Roman  roads  were  then,  and  for  centuries  after, 
the  only  roads  in  this  land  ;  and  our  forefathers 
looked  on  them  as  the  work  of  gods  and  giants, 
and  called  them  after  the  names  of  their  old  gods 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  507 

and  heroes — Irmen    Street,    Watling  Street,    and  so 
forth. 

And  then,  like  true  Englishmen,  our  own  fore- 
fathers showed  their  respect  for  the  said  divine 
works,  not  by  copying  them,  but  by  picking  them 
to  pieces  to  pave  every  man  his  own  courtyard. 
Be  it  so.  The  neglect  of  new  roads,  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  old  ones,  was  a  natural  evil  consequence 
of  local  self-government.  A  cheap  price  perhaps, 
after  all,  to  pay  for  that  power  of  local  self-govern- 
ment which  has  kept  England  free  unto  this 
day. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  down  the  Roman  road  Hereward 
went ;  past  Alconbury  Hill,  of  the  old  posting  days  ; 
past  Hatfield,  then  deep  forest ;  and  so  to  St.  Alban's, 
then  deep  forest  likewise.  And  there  they  lodged  in 
the  minster  ;  for  the  monks  thereof  were  good  English, 
and  sang  masses  daily  for  King  Harold's  soul.  And 
the  next  day  they  went  south,  by  ways  which  are  not 
so  clear. 

Just  outside  St.  Alban's — Verulamium  of  the 
Romans  (the  ruins  whereof  were  believed  to  be  full 
of  ghosts,  demons,  and  magic  treasures) — they  turned, 
at  St.  Stephen's,  to  the  left,  off  the  Roman  road  to 
London  ;  and  by  another  Roman  road  struck  into 
the  vast  forest  which  ringed  London  round  from  north- 
east to  south-west  Following  the  upper  waters  of 
the  Colne,  which  ran  through  the  woods  on  their  left, 
they  came  to  Watford,  and  then  turned  probably  to 
Rickmansworth.  No  longer  on  the  Roman  paved 
ways,  they  followed  horse-tracks,  between  the  forest 
and  the  rich  marsh-meadows  of  the  Colne,  as  far  as 
Denham,  and  then  struck  into  a  Roman  road  again 
at  the  north  end  of  Langley  Park.  From  theuce, 
over  heathy  commons — for  that  western  part  of 
Buckinghamshire,  its  soil  being  light  and  some 
gravel,  was  little  cultivated  then,  and  hardly  all 


5o8  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

cultivated    now — they    held    on    straight    by   Langley 
town  into  the  Vale  of  Thames. 

Little  they  dreamed,  as  they  rode  down  by  Ditton 
Green,  off  the  heathy  commons,  past  the  poor  scattered 
farms,  on  to  the  vast  rushy  meadows,  while  upon  them 
was  the  dull  weight  of  disappointment,  shame,  all  but 
despair  ;  their  race  enslaved,  their  country  a  prey  to 
strangers,  and  all  its  future,  like  their  own,  a  lurid 
blank — little  they  dreamed  of  what  that  vale  would 
be  within  eight  hundred  years — the  eye  of  England, 
and  it  may  be  of  the  world  ;  a  spot  which  owns  more 
wealth  and  peace,  more  art  and  civilisation,  more 
beauty  and  more  virtue,  it  may  be,  than  any  of  the  > 
God's-gardens  which  make  fair  this  earth.  Windsor, 
on  its  crowned  steep,  was  to  them  but  a  new  hunting-  . 
palace  of  the  old  miracle-monger  Edward,  who  had 
just  ruined  England.  Runnymede,  a  mile  below 
them  down  the  broad  stream,  was  but  a  horse-fen  ; 
fringed  with  water-lilies,  where  the  men  of  Wessex 
had  met  of  old  to  counsel,  and  to  bring  the  country 
to  this  pass.  And  as  they  crossed,  by  ford  or  ferry- 
boat, the  shallows  of  old  Windsor,  whither  they  had 
been  tending  all  along,  and  struck  into  the  moorlands 
of  Wessex  itself,  they  were  as  men  going  into  an 
unknown  wilderness :  behind  them  ruin,  and  before 
them,  unknown  danger. 

On  through  Windsor  Forest,  Edward  the  Saint's 
old  hunting-ground  ;  its  bottoms  choked  with  beech  : 
and  oak,  and  birch  and  alder  scrub  ;  its  upper  lands ' 
vast  flats  of  level  heath  ;  along  the  great  trackway 
which  runs  along  the  lower  side  of  Chobham  Camp, 
some  quarter  of  a  mile  broad,  every  rut  and  trackway 
as  fresh  at  this  day  as  when  the  ancient  Briton,  finding 
that  his  neighbour's  essedum — chariot,  or  rather 
cart — had  worn  the  ruts  too  deep,  struck  out  a 
fresh  wandering  line  for  himself  across  the  dreary 
heath. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  509 

Over  the  Blackwater  by  Sandhurst,  and  along  the 
flats  of  Hartford  Bridge,  where  the  old  furze-grown 
ruts  show  the  trackway  to  this  day.  Down  into  the 
clayland  forests  of  the  Andredsweald,  and  up  out  of 
them  again  at  Basing,  on  to  the  clean  crisp  chalk 
turf;  to  strike  at  Popham  Lane  the  Roman  road 
from  Silchester,  and  hold  it  over  the  high  downs, 
till  they  saw  far  below  them  the  royal  city  of 
Winchester. 

Itchen,  silver  as  they  looked  on  her  from  above, 
but  when  they  came  down  to  her,  so  clear  that  none 
could  see  where  water  ended  and  where  air  began, 
hurried  through  the  city  in  many  a  stream.  Beyond 
it  rose  the  "White  Camp,"  the  "  Venta  Belgarum," 
the  circular  earthwork  of  white  chalk  on  the  high 
down.  Within  the  city  rose  the  ancient  minster 
church,  built  by  Ethelwold  —  ancient  even  then  — 
where  slept  the  ancient  kings  ;  Kennulf,  Egbert,  and 
Ethelwulf  the  Saxons  ;  and  by  them  the  Danes,  Canute 
the  Great,  and  Hardicanute  his  son,  and  Norman 
Emma  his  wife,  and  Ethelred's  before  him  ;  and  the 
great  Earl  Godwin,  who  seemed  to  Hereward  to  have 
died,  not  twenty,  but  two  hundred  years  ago  ; — and 
it  may  be  an  old  Saxon  hall  upon  the  little  isle  whither 
Edgar  had  bidden  bring  the  heads  of  all  the  wolves 
in  Wessex,  where  afterwards  the  bishops  built 
Wolvesey  Palace.  But  nearer  to  them,  on  the 
down  which  sloped  up  to  the  west,  stood  an  uglier 
thing,  which  they  saw  with  curses  deep  and  loud 
— the  keep  of  the  new  Norman  castle  by  the  west 
gate. 

Hereward  halted  his  knights  upon  the  down  outside 
the  northern  gate.  Then  he  rode  forward  himself. 
The  gate  was  open  wide  ;  but  he  did  not  care  tc 
go  in. 

So  he  rode  into  the  gateway,  and  smote  upon  that 
gate  with  his  lance-butt.  But  the  porter  saw  the 


5io  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

knights  upon  the  down,  and  was  afraid  to  come  out ; 
for  he  feared  treason. 

Then  Hereward  smote  a  second  time :  but  the 
porter  did  not  come  out. 

Then  he  took  the  lance  by  the  shaft,  and  smote 
a  third  time.  And  he  smote  so  hard,  that  the 
lance-butt  flew  to  flinders  against  Winchester 
Gate. 

And  at  that  started  out  two  knights,  who  had  come 
down  from  the  castle,  seeing  the  meinie  on  the  down 
and  asked : 

"Who      art     thou,      who      knockest      here 
bold  ?  " 

' '  Who  I  am,  any  man  can  see  by  those  splinters 
if    he    knows    what   men   are   left   in   England    this 
day." 

The  knights  looked  at  the  broken  wood,  and 
then  at  each  other.  Who  could  the  man  be,  who 
could  beat  an  ash  stave  to  flinders  at  a  single 
blow? 

"You  are  young,  and  do  not  know  me;  and  no 
shame  to  you.  Go  and  tell  William  the  king,  that 
Hereward  is  come  to  put  his  hands  between  the  king's, 
and  be  the  king's  man  henceforth." 

"You  are  Hereward?"  asked  one,  half  awed,  half 
disbelieving  at  Hereward's  short  stature. 

"You  are — I  know  not  who.  Pick  up  those 
splinters,  and  take  them  to  King  William  ;  and  say, 
'The  man  who  broke  that  lance  against  the  gate  is 
here  to  make  his  peace  with  thee,'  and  he  will  know 
who  I  am." 

And  so  cowed  were  these  two  knights  with  Here- 
ward's  royal  voice,  and  royal  eye,  and  royal  strength, 
that  they  went  simply,  and  did  what  he  bade 
them. 

And  when  King  William  saw  the  splinters,  he  w 
as  joyful  as  man  could  be,  and  said  : 


as 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  511 

"Send  him  to  me,  and  tell  him,  Bright  shines 
the  sun  to  me  that  lights  Hereward  into 
Winchester." 

"  But,  Lord  King,  he  has  with  him  a  meinie  of  full 
forty  knights." 

"So  much  the  better.  I  shall  have  the 
more  valiant  Englishmen  to  help  my  valiant 
French." 

So  Hereward  rode  round,  outside  the  walls,  to 
William's  new  entrenched  palace,  outside  the  west 
gate,  by  the  castle. 

And  then  Hereward  went  in,  and  knelt  before  the 
Norman,  and  put  his  hands  between  William's  hands, 
and  swore  to  be  his  man. 

"I  have  kept  my  word,"  said  he,  "which  I  sent 
to  thee  at  Rouen  seven  years  agone.  Thou  art 
king  of  all  England ;  and  I  am  the  last  man  to 
say  so." 

"And  since  thou  hast  said  it,  I  am  king  indeed. 
Come  with  me,  and  dine ;  and  to-morrow  I  will  see 
thy  knights." 

And  William  walked  out  of  the  hall  leaning  on 
Hereward's  shoulder,  at  which  all  the  Normans 
gnashed  their  teeth  with  envy. 

"And  for  my  knights,  Lord  King?  Thine  and 
mine  will  mix,  for  a  while  yet,  like  oil  and  water  ; 
and  I  fear  lest  there  be  murder  done  between 
them." 

"  Likely  enough." 

So  the  knights  were  bestowed  in  a  "  vill  " 
near  by  ;  "  and  the  next  day  the  venerable  king 
himself  went  forth  to  see  those  knights,  and 
caused  them  to  stand,  and  march  before  him,  both 
with  arms,  and  without.  With  whom  being  muc!* 
delighted,  he  praised  them,  congratulating  them  on 
their  beauty  and  stature,  and  saying  that  they  must 
all  be  knights  of  fame  in  war."  After  which 


5i2  HE  REWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Hereward  sxnt  them  all  home  except  two;  and 
waited  till  he  should  marry  Alftruda,  and  get  back 
his  heritage. 

"And  when  that  happens,"  said  William,  "why 
should  we  not  have  two  weddings,  beausire,  as  well 
as  one?  I  hear  that  you  have  in  Crowland  a  fair 
daughter,  and  marriageable." 

Hereward  bowed. 

"And  I  have  found  a  husband  for  her  suitable  to 
her  years,  and  who  may  conduce  to  your  peace  and 
serenity." 

Hereward  bit  his  lip.  To  refuse  was  impossible  in 
those  days.  But 

"  I  trust  that  your  Grace  has  found  a  knight  of 
higher  lineage  than  him,  whom,  after  so  many 
honours,  you  honoured  with  the  hand  of  my 
niece." 

William  laughed.  It  was  not  his  interest  to 
quarrel  with  Hereward.  "Aha!  Ivo,  the  wood- 
cutter's son.  I  ask  your  pardon  for  that,  Sir  Hereward. 
Had  you  been  my  man  then,  as  you  are  now,  it  might 
have  been  different." 

"  If  a  king  ask  my  pardon,  I  can  only  ask  his  in 
return." 

"  You  must   be   friends   with  Taillebois.     He  is 
brave  knight,  and  a  wise  warrior." 

"  None  ever  doubted  that." 

"  And  to  cover  any  little  blots  in  his  scutcheon,  1 
have  made  him  an  earl,  as  I  may  make  you  some 
day." 

"  Your  Majesty,  like  a  true  king,  knows  how  to 
reward.  Who  is  this  knight  whom  you  have  chosen 
for  my  lass  ?  " 

"  Sir  Hugh  of  Evermue,  a  neighbour  of  yours,  and 
a  man  of  blood  and  breeding." 

"  I  know  him,  and  his  lineage  ;  and  it  is  very  well 
I  humbly  thank  your  Majesty." 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  513 

"  Can  I  be  the  same  man  ? "  said  Hereward  to 
himself  bitterly. 

And  he  was  not  the  same  man.  He  was 
besotted  on  Alftruda,  and  humbled  himself 
accordingly. 


H.W. 


514  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

HOW  TORFRIDA  CONFESSED  THAT  SHE  HAD  BEEN 
INSPIRED    BY   THE   DEVIL. 

AFTER  a  few  days  there  came  down  a  priest  to 
Crowland  from  Winchester,  and  talked  with 
Torfrida. 

And  she  answered  him,  the  priest  said,  so  wisely 
and  well,  that  he  never  had  met  with  a  woman  of  so 
clear  a  brain,  or  of  so  stout  a  heart. 

At  last,  being  puzzled  to  get  that  which  he  wanted, 
he  touched  on  the  matter  of  her  marriage  with 
Hereward. 

She  wished  it,  he  said,  dissolved.  She  wished 
herself  to  enter  religion. 

The  Church  would  be  most  happy  to  sanction  so 
holy  a  desire,  but  there  were  objections.  She  was 
a  married  woman;  and  her  husband  had  not  given 
his  consent. 

"  Let  him  give  it,  then." 

There  were  still  objections.  He  had  nothing  to 
bring  against  her  which  could  justify  the  dissolution 
of  the  holy  bond  :  unless 

"  Unless  I  bring  some  myself?  " 

"  There  have  been  rumours — I  say  not  how  true 
— of  magic  and  sorcery ' 

Torfrida  leaped  up  from  her  seat,  and  laughed 
such  a  laugh,  that  the  priest  said  in  after  years,  it 
rung  through  his  head  as  if  it  had  arisen  out  of  the 
pit  of  the  lost. 

"So  that  is  what  you  want,  Churchman?  Then 
you  shall  have  it.  Bring  me  pen  and  ink.  I  need 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE,  515 

not  to  confess  to  you.  You  shall  read  my  con- 
fession when  it  is  done.  1  am  a  better  scribe, 
mind  you,  than  any  clerk  between  here  and 
Paris." 

She  seized  the  pen  and  ink,  and  wrote  ;  not  fiercely, 
as  the  priest  expected,  but  slowly  and  carefully. 
Then  she  gave  it  the  priest  to  read. 

« Will  that  do,  Churchman  ?  Will  that  free  my 
soul,  and  that  of  your  French  Archbishop  ?  " 

And  the  priest  read  to  himself: 

How  Torfrida  of  St.  Omer,  born  at  Aries  in 
Provence,  confessed  that  from  her  youth  up  she 
had  been  given  to  the  practice  of  diabolic  arts, 
and  had  at  divers  times  and  places  used  the  same, 
both  alone  and  with  Richilda,  late  Countess  of 
Hainault.  How,  wickedly,  wantonly,  and  instinct 
with  a  malignant  spirit,  she  had  compassed, 
by  charms  and  spells,  to  win  the  love  of 
Hereward.  How  she  had  ever  since  kept  in 
bondage  him,  and  others  whom  she  had  not  loved 
with  the  same  carnal  love,  but  only  desired  to 
make  them  useful  to  her  own  desire  of  power  and 
glory,  by  the  same  magical  arts  ;  for  which  she 
now  humbly  begged  pardon  of  Holy  Church,  and 
of  all  Christian  folk ;  and,  penetrated  with  com- 
punction, desired  only  that  she  might  retire  into  the 
convent  of  Crowland.  She  asserted  the  marriage 
which  she  had  so  unlawfully  compassed,  to  be 
null  and  void ;  and  prayed  to  be  released  there- 
from, as  a  burden  to  her  conscience  and  soul,  that 
she  might  spend  the  rest  of  her  life  In  penitence  for 
her  many  enormous  sins.  She  submitted  herself  to 
the  judgment  of  Holy  Church,  only  begging  that  this 
her  free  confession  might  be  counted  ni  her  favour, 
and  that  she  might  not  be  put  to  death,  as  she 
deserved,  nor  immured  perpetually;  because  her 
mother-in-law  according  to  the  flesh,  the  Countess 


516  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Godiva,  being  old  and  infirm,  had  daily  need  of 
h$r  ;  and  she  wished  to  serve  her  menially  as  long 
as  she  lived.  After  which,  she  put  herself  utterly 
upon  the  judgment  of  the  Church.  And  mean- 
while she  desired  and  prayed  that  she  might  be 
allowed  to  remain  in  perpetual  imprisonment 
(whereby  her  marriage  could  be  canonically  dis- 
solved) in  the  said  monastery  of  Crowland,  not 
leaving  the  precincts  thereof,  without  special  leave 
given  by  the  Abbot  and  prioress  in  one  case  between 
her  and  them  reserved  ;  to  wear  garments  of  hair- 
cloth ;  to  fast  all  the  year  on  bread  and  water  ;  and 
to  be  disciplined  with  rods  or  otherwise,  at  such 
times  as  the  prioress  should  command,  and  to  such 
degree  as  her  body,  softened  with  carnal  luxury, 
could  reasonably  endure.  And  beyond — that,  being 
dead  to  the  world,  God  might  have  mercy  on  her 
soul. 

And  she  meant  what  she  said.  The  madness  of 
remorse  and  disappointment,  so  common  in  the  wild 
middle  age,  had  come  over  her  ;  and  with  it  the  twin 
madness  of  self-torture. 

The  priest  read,  and  trembled  ;  not  for  Torfrida, 
but  for  himself,  lest  she  should  enchant  him  after 
all. 

"She  must  have  been  an  awful  sinner,"  said  he 
to  the  monks  when  he  got  safe  out  of  the  room  ; 
"comparable  only  to  the  witch  of  Endor,  or  the 
woman  Jezebel,  of  whom  St.  John  writes  in  the 
Revelations." 

"  I  do  not  know  how  you  Frenchmen  measure 
folks,  when  you  see  them  :  but  to  our  mind 
she  is — for  goodness,  humility,  and  patience,  com- 
parable only  to  an  Angel  of  God,"  said  Abbot 
Ulfketyl. 

"You  Englishmen  will  have  to  change  your  minds 
on  many  points,  if  you  mean  to  stay  here." 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  5T7 

"We  shall  not  change  them,  and  we  shall  stay 
here,"  quoth  the  Abbot. 

"How?  You  will  not  get  Sweyn  and  his  Danes 
to  help  you  a  second  time." 

"No,  we  shall  all  die,  and  give  you  your  wills, 
and  you  will  not  have  the  heart  to  cast  our  bones 
into  the  fens?" 

"Not  unless  you  intend  to  work  miracles, 
and  set  up  for  saints,  like  your  Alphege  and 
Edmund." 

"  Heaven  forbid  that  we  should  compare  our- 
selves with  them  !  Only  let  us  alone  till  we 
die." 

"  If  you  let  us  alone,  and  do  not  turn  traitor  mean- 
while." 

Abbot  Ulfketyl  bit  his  lip,  and  kept  down  the  rising 
fiend. 

1  "  And  now,"  said  the  priest,  "  deliver  me  over 
Torfrida  the  younger,  daughter  of  Hereward  and 
this  woman,  that  I  may  take  her  to  the  King,  who 
has  found  a  fit  husband  for  her." 

"  You  will  hardly  get  her." 

"  Not  get  her?  " 

"  Not  without  her  mother's  consent.  The  lass 
cares  for  naught  but  her." 

"Pish!  that  sorceress?    Send  for  the  girl." 

Abbot  Ulfketyl,  forced  in  his  own  abbey,  great  and 
august  lord  though  he  was,  to  obey  any  upstart  of  a 
Norman  priest  who  came  backed  by  the  King  and 
Lanfranc,  sent  for  the  lass. 

The  young  outlaw  came  in — hawk  on  fist,  and  its 
hood  off  for  it  was  a  pet — short,  sturdy,  upright, 
brown-haired,  blue-eyed,  ill-dressed,  with  hard  hands 
and  sunburnt  face,  but  with  the  hawk-eye  of  her 
father  and  her  mother,  and  the  hawks  among  which 
she  was  bred.  She  looked  the  priest  over  from  head 
to  foot,  till  he  was  abashed. 


5i8  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

*'  A  Frenchman  I "  said  she,  and  she  said  no 
more. 

The  priest  looked  at  her  eyes,  and  then  at  the 
hawk's  eyes.  They  were  disagreeably  like  each 
other.  He  told  his  errand  as  courteously  as  he 
could,  for  he  was  not  a  bad-hearted  man  for  a 
Norman  priest. 

The  lass  laughed  him  to  scorn.  The  King's  com- 
mands? She  never  saw  a  king  in  the  greenwood, 
and  cared  for  none.  There  was  no  king  in  England 
now,  since  Sweyn  Ulfsson  sailed  back  to  Denmark. 
Who  was  this  French  William,  to  sell  a  free  English 
lass  like  a  colt  or  a  cow?  The  priest  might  go 
back  to  the  slaves  of  Wessex,  and  command  them 
if  he  could :  but  in  the  fens,  men  were  free,  and 
lasses  too. 

The  priest  was  piously  shocked  and  indignant,  and 
began  to  argue. 

She  played  with  her  hawk  instead  of  listening1,  and 
then  was  marching  out  of  the  room. 

"Your  mother,"  said  he,  "  is  a  sorceress." 

"  You  are  a  knave,  or  set  on  by  knaves.  You  lie  ; 
and  you  know  you  lie."  And  she  turned  away  again. 

"  She  has  confessed  it." 

"  You  have  driven  her  mad  between  you,  till  she 
will  confess  anything.  I  presume  you  threatened  to 
burn  her,  as  some  of  you  did  awhile  back."  And 
the  young  lady  made  use  of  words  equally  strong 
and  true. 

The  priest  was  not  accustomed  to  the  direct  language 
of  the  greenwood,  and  indignant  on  his  own  account, 
threatened,  and  finally  offered  to  use,  force.  Whereon 
there  looked  up  into  his  face  such  a  demon  (so 
he  said)  as  he  never  had  seen  or  dreamed  of,  and 
said : 

"  If  you  lay  a  finger  on  me,  I  will  brittle  you  like 
any  deer.'  And  therewith  pulled  out  a  saj ing--knife, 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  519 

about  half  as  long  again  as  the  said  priest's  hand, 
being  very  sharp,  so  he  deposed,  down  the  whole 
length  of  one  edge,  and  likewise  down  his  little  finger's 
length  of  the  other. 

Not  being  versed  in  the  terms  of  English  venery,  he 
asked  Abbot  Ulfketyl  what  brittling  of  a  deer  might 
mean  ;  and  being  informed  that  it  was  that  operation 
on  the  carcase  of  a  stag  which  his  countrymen  called 
eventrer,  he  subsided,  and  thought  it  best  to  go  and 
consult  the  young  lady's  mother. 

She,  to  his  astonishment,  submitted  at  once  and 
utterly.  The  King,  and  he  whom  she  had  called 
her  husband,  were  very  gracious.  It  was  all  well. 
She  would  have  preferred,  and  the  Lady  Godiva 
too,  after  their  experience  of  the  world  and  the 
flesh,  to  have  devoted  her  daughter  to  Heaven  in 
the  minster  there.  But  she  was  unworthy.  Who 
was  she,  to  train  a  bride  for  Him  who  died  on  the 
cross?  She  accepted  this  as  part  of  her  penance, 
with  thankfulness  and  humility.  She  had  heard 
that  Sir  Hugh  of  Evermue  was  a  gentleman  of 
ancient  birth  and  good  prowess,  and 'she  thanked 
the  King  for  his  choice.  Let  the  priest  tell  her 
daughter  that  she  commanded  her  to  go  with  him  to 
Winchester.  She  did  not  wish  to  see  her.  She  was 
stained  with  many  crimes,  and  unworthy  to  approach 
a  pure  maiden.  Besides,  it  would  only  cause  misery 
and  tears.  She  was  trying  to  die  to  the  world  and 
to  the  flesh  ;  and  she  did  not  wish  to  reawaken  their 
power  within  her.  Yes.  It  was  very  well.  Let  the 
lass  go  with  him. 

"Thou  art  indeed  a  true  penitent,"  said  the  priest, 
his  human  heart  softening  him. 

44  Thou  art  very  much  mistaken,"  said  she,  and 
turned  away. 

The  girl,  when  she  heard  her  mother's  command, 
wept,  shrieked,  and  went.  At  least  she  was  going  to 


520  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

her  father.  And  from  wholesome  fear  of  that  same 
saying-knife,  the  priest  left  her  in  peace  all  the  way 
to  Winchester. 

After  which,  Abbot  UlfUetyl  went  into  his  lodgings, 
and  burst,  like  a  noble  old  nobleman  as  he  was,  into 
bitter  tears  of  rage  and  shame. 

But  Torfrida's  eyes  were  as  dry  as  her  own  sack- 
cloth. 

The  priest  took  the  letter  back,  and  showed  it — it 
may  be  to  Archbishop  Lanfranc,  who  was  well  versed 
in  such  matters,  having  already  (as  is  well  known  to 
all  the  world)  arranged  King  William's  uncanonical 
marriage,  by  help  of  Archdeacon  Hildebrand,  after- 
wards Pope.  But  what  he  said,  this  chronicler 
would  not  dare  to  say.  For  he  was  a  very  wise 
man,  and  a  very  staunch  and  strong  pillar  of  the 
Holy  Roman  Church.  And  doubtless  he  was  man 
enough  not  to  require  that  anything  should  be 
added  to  Torfrida's  penance  ;  and  that  would  have 
been  enough  to  prove  him  a  man  in  those  days — 
at  least  for  a  Churchman — as  it  proved  Archbishop 
or  Saint  Ailred  to  be,  a  few  years  after,  in  the 
case  of  the  nun  of  Watton,  to  be  read  in  Gale's 
Scriptores  Anglicanus.  Then  he  showed  the  letter  to 
Alftruda- 

And  she  laughed  one  of  her  laughs,  and  said,  "  I 
have  her  at  last !  " 

Then,  as  it  befell,  he  was  forced  to  show  the  letter 
to  Queen  Matilda  ;  and  she  wept  over  it  human  tears, 
such  as  she,  the  noble  heart,  had  been  forced  to  weep 
many  a  time  before,  and  said,  "The  poor  soul! — 
You,  Alftruda,  woman !  does  Hereward  know  of 
this?'' 

"No,  madam,"  said  Alftruda,  not  adding  that 
she  had  taken  good  care  that  he  should  not 
know. 

"It  is  the  best  thing  which  I  have  heard  of  him. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  521 

I  should  tell  him,  were  it  not  that  I  must  not  meddle 
with  my  lord's  plans.  God  grant  him  a  good  delivery; 
as  they  say  of  the  poor  souls  in  gaol.  Well,  madam,' 
you  have  your  will  at  last.  God  give  you  grace 
thereof,  for  you  have  not  given  him  much  chance 
as  yet." 

"Your  majesty  will  honour  us  by  coming 
to  the  wedding  ? "  asked  Alftruda,  utterly  un- 
abashed. 

Matilda  the  Good  looked  at  her  with  a  face  of  such 
calm  childlike  astonishment,  that  Alftruda  dropped  her 
proud  head  at  last,  and  slunk  out  of  the  presence 
like  a  beaten  cur. 

But  William  went  to  the  wedding ;  and  swore 
horrible  oaths  that  they  were  the  handsomest  pair  he 
had  ever  seen.  And  so  Hereward  married  Alftruda. 
How  Holy  Church  settled  the  matter,  is  not  said. 
But  that  Hereward  married  Alftruda,  under  these  very 
circumstances,  may  be  considered  a  "historic  fact," 
being  vouched  for  both  by  Gaimar,  and  by  Richard  of 
Ely.  And  doubtless  Holy  Church  contrived  that  it 
should  happen  without  sin,  if  it  conduced  to  her  own 
interest. 

And  little  Torfrida — then  aged,  it  seems,  some 
sixteen  years — was  married  to  Hugh  of  Evermue. 
She  wept  and  struggled  as  she  was  dragged  into  the 
church. 

"But  I  do  not  want  to  be  married.  I  want  to  go 
back  to  my  mother." 

"The  diabolic  instinct  may  have  descended  to 
her,"  said  the  priests,  "and  attracts  her  to  the 
sorceress.  We  had  best  sprinkle  her  with  holy 
water." 

So  they  sprinkled  her  with  holy  water,  and  used 
exorcisms.  Indeed,  the  case  being  an  important  one, 
and  the  personages  of  rank,  they  brought  out  from 
their  treasures  the  apron  of  a  certain  virgin  saint,  and 


522  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

put  it  round   her  neck,  in  hopes  of  driving  out  the 
hereditary  fiend. 

"  If  I  am  led  with  a  halter,  1  must  needs  go," 
said  she,  with  one  of  her  mother's  own  flashes  of 
wit,  and  went.  "But,  Lady  Alftruda,"  whispered 
she,  halfway  up  the  church,  "  I  never  loved 
him." 

"Behave  yourself  before  the  King,  or  I  will  whip 
you  till  the  blood  runs." 

And  so  she  would ;  and  no  one  would  have 
wondered  in  those  days. 

"  I  will  murder  you,  if  you  do.  But  I  never  even 
saw  him." 

"Little  fool!  And  what  are  you  going  through, 
but  what  I  went  through  before  you?  " 

"You  to  say  that?"  gnashed  the  girl,  as  another 
spark  of  her  mother's  wit  came  out.  "And  you 
gaining  what " 

"What  I  waited  for  for  fifteen  years,"  said 
Alftruda  coolly.  "If  you  have  courage  and  cunning 
like  me,  to  wait  for  fifteen  years,  you  too  may  have 
your  will  likewise." 

The  pure  child  shuddered ;  and  was  married  to 
Hugh  of  Evermue,  who  was,  according  to  them  of 
Crowland,  a  good  friend  to  that  monastery,  and 
therefore,  doubtless,  a  good  man.  Once,  says  wicked 
report,  he  offered  to  strike  her,  as  was  the  fashion 
in  those  chivalrous  days.  Whereon  she  turned 
upon  him  like  a  tigress,  and  bidding  him  re- 
member that  she  was  the  daughter  of  Hereward 
and  Torfrida,  gave  him  such  a  beating  that  he, 
not  wishing  to  draw  sword  upon  her,  surrendered 
at  discretion ;  and  they  lived  all  their  lives  after- 
wards as  happily  as  most  other  married  people  in 
those  times. 

All  this,  however  pleasant  to  Hereward,  was  not 
pleasant  to  the  Freuch  courtiers ;  whereon,  after  the 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE,  513 

simple  fashion  of  those  times,  they  looked  about 
for  one  who  would  pick  a  quarrel  with  Hereward 
and  slay  him  in  fair  fight.  But  an  Archibald 
Bell-the-Cat  was  not  to  be  found  behind  every 
hedge. 

Still,  be  might  be  provoked  to  6ghL  If  his 
foe  was  slain,  so  much  the  worse  for  both  parties. 
For  a  duel,  especially  if  a  fatal  one,  within  the 
precints  of  the  king's  court,  was  a  grave  offence, 
punishable,  at  least  in  extreme  cases,  with 
death. 

Now  it  befell,  that  among  them  at  Winchester  was 
Oger  the  Breton,  he  who  had  held  Morcar's  lands 
round  Bourne,  and  who  was  now  in  wrath  and  dread 
enough,  at  the  prospect  of  having  to  give  them 
up  to  Hereward.  It  was  no  difficult  matter  to  set 
the  hot-headed  Celt  on  to  provoke  the  equally 
hot-headed  Wake ;  and  accordingly,  Oger,  having 
been  duly  plied  with  wine,  was  advised  to  say  one 
afternoon  : 

"  Hereward  feeds  well  at  the  king's  table.  French 
cooking  is  a  pleasant  change  for  an  outlaw,  who  has 
fed  for  many  a  day  on  rats  and  mice,  and  such  small 
deer." 

"A  pleasanter  change  for  a  starveling  Breton,  who 
was  often  glad  enough,  ere  he  came  to  England,  to 
rob  his  own  ponies  of  their  furze-toppings,  and  boil 
them  down  for  want  of  kale." 

"We  use  furze-toppings  in  Brittany  to  scourge 
saucy  churls  withal.  Speakest  thou  thus  to  me,  who 
have  the  blood  of  King  Arthur  and  half  his  knights 
in  my  veins?  " 

"Then  discipline  thine  own  churl's  back  therewith  ; 
for  churl  thou  art,  though  thou  comest  of  Arthur's 
blood.  Nay,  I  will  not  quarrel  with  thee.  I  have 
had  too  many  gnats  pestering  roe  in  the  fens  already 
to  care  for  one  more  here." 


524  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

Wherefrom  the  Breton  judged  that  Hereward  had 
no  lust  to  fight. 

The  next  day  he  met  Hereward  going  out  to  hunt, 
and  was  confirmed  in  his  opinion  when  Hereward 
lifted  his  cap  to  him  most  courteously,  saying  that  he 
was  not  aware  before  that  his  neighbour  was  a  gentle- 
man of  such  high  lineage. 

"  Lineage  ?  Better  at  least  than  thine,  thou 
bare-legged  Saxon,  who  hast  dared  to  call  me 
base-born  and  starveling  ?  So  thou  must  needs 
have  thy  throat  cut?  I  took  thee  for  a  wiser 
man." 

"Many  have  taken  me  for  that  which  I  am  not.  If 
you  will  harness  yourself,  I  will  do  the  same  :  and 
we  will  ride  up  to  the  woods,  and  settle  this  matter 
in  peace." 

"  Three  men  on  each  side  to  see  fair  play,"  said  the 
Breton. 

And  up  to  the  woods  they  rode  ;  and  fought  long 
without  advantage  on  either  side. 

Hereward  was  not  the  man  which  he  had  been. 
His  nerve  was  gone,  as  well  as  his  conscience ; 
and  all  the  dash  and  fury  of  his  old  onslaughts 
gone  therewith. 

He  grew  tired  of  the  fight,  not  in  body,  but  in  mind  ; 
and  more  than  once  drew  back. 

"  Let  us  stop  this  child's  play,"  said  he,  according 
<o  the  chronicler  ;  "  what  need  have  we  to  fight  here 
all  day  about  nothing  ?  " 

Whereat  the  Breton  fancied  him  already  more 
than  half-beaten,  and  attacked  more  furiously  than 
ever.  He  would  be  the  first  man  on  earth  who 
ever  had  had  the  better  of  the  great  outlaw.  He 
would  win  himself  eternal  glory,  as  the  champion  of 
all  England. 

But  he  had  mistaken  his  man,  and  his  indomitable 
English  pluck.  *'  It  was  Hereward's  fashion  in  fight 


HEREWARD    THE  WAKE.  525 

and  war,"  says  the  chronicler,  "always  to  ply 
the  man  most  at  the  last."  And  so  found  the 
Breton  ;  for  Hereward  suddenly  lost  patience, 
and  rushing  on  him  with  one  of  his  old  shouts, 
hewed  at  him  again  and  again,  as  if  his  arm 
would  never  tire. 

Oger  gave  back,  would  he  or  not.  In  a  few 
moments  his  sword-arm  dropped  to  his  side,  cut  half 
through. 

"  Have  you  had  enough,  Sir  Tristram  the 
younger?"  quoth  Hereward,  wiping  his  sword,  and 
walking  moodily  away. 

The  fruit  of  which  was  this.  That  within 
twenty-four  hours  Hereward  was  arrested  on  a 
charge  of  speaking  evil  of  the  king,  breaking  his 
peace,  compassing  the  death  of  his  faithful  lieges, 
and  various  other  wicked,  traitorous,  and  diabolical 
acts. 

He  was  to  be  sent  to  Bedford  Castle,  in  the 
custody  of  Robert  Herepol,  Chatelain  of  Bedford, 
a  reasonable  and  courteous  man.  The  king  had 
spared  his  life,  in  consideration  of  his  having  first 
submitted  himself. 

Hereward  went  like  a  man  stunned,  and  spoke 
never  a  word.  Day  after  day  he  rode  north- 
ward, unarmed  for  the  first  time  for  many  a 
year ;  and  for  the  first  time  in  all  his  years, 
with  gyves  on  ankle  and  on  wrist.  This  was  the 
wages  of  his  sin.  This  was  the  faith  of  French- 
men. He  was  not  astonished,  hardly  disap- 
pointed. Hatred  of  William,  and  worse,  hatred 
of  himself,  swept  all  the  passions  from  his  st>ul. 
Of  Alftruda  he  never  thought  for  a  moment.  In- 
deed, he  never  thought  steadily  of  anything,  was 
hardly  conscious  of  anything,  till  he  heard  the 
key  turned  on  him  in  a  room — not  a  small  or 
doleful  one — in  Bedford  keep ;  and  found  an  iron 


526  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

shackle  on  his  leg,  fastened  to  the  stone  bench  on 
which  he  sat. 

Robert  of  Herepol  had  meant  to  leave  his 
prisoner  loose.  But  there  were  those  among  his 
French  guards  who  told  him,  and  with  truth, 
that  if  he  did  so,  no  man's  life  would  be  safe  ; 
that  to  brain  the  gaoler  with  his  own  keys,  and 
then  twist  out  of  his  bowels  a  line  wherewith  to 
let  himself  down  from  the  top  of  the  castle,  would 
be  not  only  easy,  but  amusing,  to  the  famous 
''Wake." 

So  Robert  consented  to  fetter  him  so  far,  but 
no  farther;  and  begged  his  pardon  again  and 
again  as  he  did  it,  pleading  the  painful  necessities 
of  his  office. 

But  Herewafd  heard  .  him  not.  He  sat  in 
stupefied  despair.  A  great  black  cloud  had 
covered  all  heaven  and  earth,  and  entered  into 
his  brain  through  every  sense ;  till  his  mind,  as 
he  said  afterwards,  was  like  Hell  with  the  fire 
gone  out. 

A  gaoler  came  in,  he  knew  not  how  long 
after,  bringing  a  good  meal,  and  wine*  He 
came  cautiously  toward  the  prisoner,  and  when 
still  beyond  the  length  of  his  chain,  set  the  food 
down,  and  thrust  it  toward  him  with  a  stick,  lest 
Hereward  should  leap  on  him  And  wring  his 
neck. 

But  Here  ward  never  even  saw  him  or  the 
food.  He  sat  there  all  day,  all  night,  and 
nearly  all  the  next  day,  and  hardly  moved  hand 
or  foot.  The  gaoler  told  Sir  Robert  in  the 
evening  that  he  thought  the  man  tras  mad,  and 
would  die. 

So  good  Sir  Robert  went  up  ot  him,  and 
spoke  kindly  and  hopefully.  But  all  Here- 
ward  answered  WRS,  that  he  was  very  well.  That 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  527 

he  wanted  nothing.  That  he  had  always  heard 
well  of  Sir  Robert.  That  he  should  like  to  get 
a  little  sleep  :  but  that  sleep  would  not  come. 

The  next  day  Sir  Robert  came  again  early,  and 
found  him  sitting  in  the  same  place, 

"He  was  very  well."  he  said.  "How  could 
he  be  otherwise?  He  was  just  where  he  ought 
to  be.  A  man  could  not  be  better  than  in  his 
right  place." 

Whereon  Sir  Robert  gave  him  up  for  mad. 

Then  he  bethought  of  sending  him  a  harp,  knowing 
the  fame  of  Hereward'a  music  and  singing.  "  And 
when  he  saw  the  harp,"  the  gaoler  said,  "  he  wept; 
but  bade  take  the  thing  away.  And  so  sat  still  where 
he  was." 

In  this  state  of  dull  despair,  he  remained  for  many 
weeks.  At  last  he  woke  up. 

There  passed  through  and  by  Bedford  large 
bodies  of  troops,  going  as  it  were  to  and  from 
battle.  The  clank  of  arms  stirred  Hereward's 
heart  as  of  old,  and  he  sent  to  Sir  Robert  to  ask 
what  was  toward. 

Sir  Robert,  "  the  venerable  man,"  came  to  him 
joyfully  and  at  once,  glad  to  speak  to  an  illustrious 
captive,  whom  he  looked  on  as  an  injured  person; 
and  told  him  news  enough. 

Taillebois'  warning  about  Ralph  Guader  and 
Waltheof  had  not  been  needless.  Ralph,  as  the 
most  influential  of  the  Bretons,  was  on  no  good 
terms  with  the  Normans,  save  with  one,  and  that 
one  of  the  most  powerful — Fitz-Osbern,  Earl  of 
Hereford.  His  sister,  Ralph  was  to  have  married; 
but  William,  for  reasons  unknown,  forbade  the 
match.  The  two  great  Earls  celebrated  the 
wedding  in  spite  of  William,  and  asked  Waltheof 
as  a  guest.  And  at  Exning,  between  the  fen  and 
Newmarket  Heath — 


528  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

Was  that  bride-ale 
Which  was  man's  bale. 

For  there  was  matured  the  plot  which  Ivo  and 
others  had  long  seen  brewing.  William  (they  said) 
had  made  himself  hateful  to  all  men  by  his  cruelties 
and  tyrannies ;  and,  indeed,  his  government  was 
growing  more  unrighteous  day  by  day.  Let  them 
drive  him  out  of  England,  and  part  the  land 
between  them.  Two  should  be  dukes,  the  third 
king  paramount. 

"  Waltheof,  I  presume,"  quoth  Hereward, 
"plotted  drunk,  and  repented  sober,  when  too 
late.  The  wittol !  He  should  have  been  a  monk. " 

"Repented  he  has,  if  ever  he  was  guilty.  For 
he  fled  to  Archbishop  Lanfranc,  and  confessed  to 
him  so  much,  that  Lanfranc  declares  him  inno- 
cent, and  has  sent  him  on  to  William  in 
Normandy." 

"  Oh,  kind  priest !  true  priest !  To  send  his  sheep 
into  the  wolfs  mouth." 

"You  forget,  dear  sire,  that  William  is  our 
king." 

"  I  can  hardly  forget  that,  with  this  pretty  ring 
upon  my  ankle.  But  after  my  experience  of  how 
he  has  kept  faith  with  me,  what  can  I  expect  for 
Waltheof  the  wittol,  save  that  which  I  have  foretold 
many  a  time?" 

"As  for  you,  dear  sire,  the  king  has  been 
misinformed  concerning  you.  I  have  sent  mes- 
sengers to  reason  with  him  again  and  again : 
but  as  long  as  Taillebois,  Warrenne,  and  Robert 
Malet  had  his  ear,  of  what  use  were  my  poor 
words  ?  " 

"And  what  said  they?  " 

"That  there  would  be  no  peace  in  England  if 
you  were  loose.1' 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  529 

"They  lied.  I  am  no  boy,  like  Waltheof.  I 
know  when  the  game  is  played  out.  And  it  is 
played  out  now.  The  Frenchman  is  master,  and  I 
know  it  well.  Were  I  loose  to-morrow,  and  as 
great  a  fool  as  Waltheof,  what  could  I  do,  with, 
it  may  be,  some  forty  knights,  and  a  hundred 
men-at-arms,  against  all  William's  armies?  But 
how  goes  on  this  fools'  rebellion  ?  If  I  had 
been  loose,  I  might  have  helped  to  crush  it  in  the 
bud." 

"And  you  would  have  done  that  against 
Waltheof  ?" 

"Why  not  against  him?  He  is  but  bringing  more 
misery  on  England.  Tell  that  to  William.  Tell  him 
that  if  he  sets  me  free,  I  will  be  the  first  to  attack 
Waltheof,  or  whom  he  will.  There  are  no  English 
left  to  fight  against,"  said  he  bitterly,  "for  Waltheof 
is  none  now." 

"He  shall  know  your  words  when  he  returns  to 
England." 

"What,  is  he  abroad,  and  all  this  evil  going 
on?" 

"  In  Normandy.  But  the  English  have  risen 
for  the  King  in  Herefordshire,  and  beaten  Earl 
Roger ;  and  Odo  of  Bayeux  and  Bishop  Mowbray 
are  on  their  way  to  Cambridge,  where  they 
hope  to  give  a  good  account  of  Earl  Ralph  ; 
and  hope,  too,  that  the  English  may  help  them 
there." 

"And  they  shall!  They  hate  Ralph  Guader  as 
much  as  I  do.  Can  you  send  a  message  for 
me?" 

"Whither?" 

"To  Bourne  in  the  Bruneswald ;  and  say 
to  Hereward's  men,  wherever  they  are,  Let 
them  rise  and  arm,  if  they  love  Hereward ;  and 
go  down  to  Cambridge,  to  be  the  foremost  at 


530  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

Bishop  Odo's  side  against  Ralph  Guader,  or 
Waltheof  himself.  Send !  send  1  Oh,  that  I  were 
free ! " 

"  Would  to  Heaven  thou  wert  free,  my  gallant  sir !  " 
said  the  good  man. 

From  that  day  Hereward  woke  up  some- 
what. He  was  still  a  broken  man,  querulous, 
peevish :  but  the  hope  of  freedom  and  the  hope  of 
battle  stirred  him.  If  he  could  but  get  to  his 
men !  But  his  melancholy  returned.  His  men — 
some  of  them  at  least — went  down  to  Qdo  at 
Cambridge,  and  did  good  service.  Guader  was 
utterly  routed,  and  escaped  to  Norwich,  and  thence 
to  Brittany,  his  home.  The  bishops  punished  their 
prisoners,  the  rebel  French,  with  horrible  mutila- 
tions. 

"  The  wolves  are  beginning  to  eat  each  other," 
said  Hereward  to  himself.  But  it  was  a  sickening 
thought  to  him,  that  his  men  had  been  fighting  and 
he  not  at  their  head. 

After  awhile  there  came  to  Bedford  Castle 
two  witty  knaves.  One  was  a  cook,  who  "  came 
to  buy  milk,"  says  the  chronicler;  the  other 
seemingly  a  gleeman.  They  told  stories,  jested, 
harped,  sang,  drank,  and  pleased  much  the  garri- 
son and  Sir  Robert,  who  let  them  hang  about  the 
place. 

They  asked  next,  whether  it  were  true  that  the 
famous  Wake  was  there  ?1  If  so,  might  a  man  have  a 
look  at  him  ? 

The  gaoler  said  that  many  men  might  have  gone  to 
see  him,  so  easy  was  Sir  Robert  to  him.  But  he 
would  have  no  man;  and  none  dare  enter  save  Sir 
Robert  and  he,  for  fear  of  their  lives.  But  he  would 
ask  him  of  Herepol. 

The  good  knight  of  Herepol  said,  "  Let  the  rogues 
go  in,  they  may  amuse  the  poor  soul." 


HKREWARD  THE  WAKE,  53» 

So  they  went  in  ;  and  as  soon  as  they  went,  he  knew 
them.  One  was  Martin  Lightfoot,  the  other,  Leofric 
his  mass-priest. 

"Who  sent  you?"  asked  he  surlily,  turning  his 
face  away. 

"  She." 

"Who?" 

"We  know  but  one  she,  and  she  is  at  Crowland." 

"She  sent  you  ?  and  wherefore ?  " 

"  That  we  might  sing  to  you,  and  make  you 
merry." 

Hereward  answered  them  with  a  terrible  word,  and 
turned  his  face  to  the  wail,  groaning,  and  then  bade 
them  sternly  to  go. 

So  they  went,  for  the  time. 

The  gaoler  told  this  to  Sir  Robert,  who  understood 
all,  being  a  kind-hearted  man. 

"  From  his  poor  first  wife>  eh  ?  Well,  there  can 
be  no  harm  in  that  Nor  if  they  came  from  this  Lady 
Alftruda  either,  for  that  matter  ;  let  them  go  in  and 
out  when  they  will." 

"  But  they  may  be  spies  and  traitors.** 

"Then  we  can  but  haug  them." 

Robert  of  Herepol,  it  would  appear  from  the 
chronicle,  did  not  much  care  whether  they  were  spies 
or  not. 

So  the  men  went  to  and  fro  ;  and  often  sat  with 
Hereward.  But  he  forbade  them  sternly  to  mention 
Torfrida's  name. 

Alftruda,  meanwhile,  returned  to  Bourne,  and 
took  possession  of  her  new  husband's  house  and 
lands.  She  sent  him,  again  and  again,  messages 
of  passionate  love  and  sorrow:  but  he  listened  to 
them  as  sullenly  as  lie  did  to  his  two  servants, 
and  sent  no  answer  back.  And  so  he  sat  more 
weary  months,  in  the  very  prison,  it  may  be  in  the 
very  room,  in  which  John  Bunyan  sat  nigh  six 


532  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

hundred  years  after  :  but  in  a  very  different  frame 
of  mind. 

One  day  Sir  Robert  was  going  up  the  stairs  with 
another  knight,  and  met  the  two  coming  down.  He 
was  talking  to  that  knight  earnestly,  indignantly : 
and  somehow,  as  he  passed  Leofric  and  Martin 
he  thought  fit  to  raise  his  voice,  as  if  in  a  great 
wrath. 

"Shame  to  all  honour  and  chivalry!  Good 
saints  in  heaven,  what  a  thing  is  human  fortune  ! 
That  this  man,  who  had  once  a  gallant  army  at 
his  back,  should  be  at  this  moment  going  like  a 
sheep  to  the  slaughter,  to  Buckingham  Castle,  at 
the  mercy  of  his  worst  enemy — of  Ivo  Taillebois, 
of  all  men  in  the  world  !  If  there  were  a 
dozen  knights  left  of  all  those  whom  he  used  to 
heap  with  wealth  and  honour,  worthy  the  name 
of  knights,  they  would  catch  us  between  here 
and  Stratford,  and  make  a  free  man  of  their 
lord." 

So  spake — or  words  to  that  effect,  according  to  the 
Latin  chronicler,  who  must  have  got  them  from 
Leofric  himself — the  good  knight  of  Herepol. 

"  Hillo,  knaves!"  said  he,  seeing  the  two,  "are 
you  here  eaves-dropping  ?  Out  of  the  castle  this 
instant,  on  your  lives." 

Which  hint  those  two  witty  knaves  took  on  the 
spot. 

A  few  days  after,  Hereward  was  travelling  toward 
Buckingham,  chained  upon  a  horse,  with  Sir  Robert 
and  his  men,  and  a  goodly  company  of  knights 
belonging  to  Ivo.  Ivo,  as  the  story  runs,  seems  to 
have  arranged  with  Ralph  Pagnel  at  Buckingham,  to 
put  him  into  the  keeping  of  a  creature  of  his  own. 
And  how  easy  it  was  to  put  out  a  man's  eyes,  or 
starve  him  to  death,  in  a  French  keep,  none  knew 
better  than  Hereward. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  533 

But  he  was  past  fear  or  sorrow.  A  dull  heavy 
cloud  of  despair  had  settled  down  upon  his  soul. 
Black  with  sin,  his  heart  could  not  pray.  He  had 
hardened  himself  against  all  heaven  and  earth  ;  and 
thought,  when  he  thought  at  all,  only  of  his  wrongs  : 
but  never  of  his  sins. 


534  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE, 


CHAPTER  XL. 


HOW  EARL  WALTHEOF  WAS   MADE  A   SAINT. 

A  DAY  or  two  after,  there  sat  in  Abbot  Thorold's 
lodgings  in  Peterborough,  a  select  company  of 
Frenchmen,  talking  over  affairs  of  State  after  their 
supper. 

"Well,  lords  and  knights,"  said  the  Abbot,  as 
he  sipped  his  wine,  "  the  cause  of  our  good  king, 
which  is  happily  the  cause  of  Holy  Church,  goes 
well,  I  think.  We  have  much  to  be  thankful  for 
when  we  review  the  events  of  the  past  year.  We 
have  finished  the  rebels ;  Roger  de  Breteuil  is 
safe  in  prison,  Ralph  Guader  unsafe  in  Brittany, 
and  Waltheof  more  than  unsafe  in  —  the  place  to 
which  traitors  descend.  We  have  not  a  manor 
left  which  is  not  in  loyal  hands ;  we  have  not 
an  English  monk  left  who  has  not  been  scourged 
and  starved  into  holy  obedience  ;  not  an  English 
saint  for  whom  any  man  cares  a  jot,  since  Guerin 
de  Lire  preached  down  St.  Adhelm,  the  admirable 
Primate  disposed  of  St.  Alphege's  martyrdom,  and 
some  other  wise  man — I  am  ashamed  to  say 
that  I  forget  who — proved  that  St.  Edmund  of 
Suffolk  was  merely  a  barbarian  kinglet,  who 
was  killed  fighting  with  Danes  only  a  little 
more  heathen  than  himself.  We  have  had  great 
labours  and  great  sufferings  since  we  landed  in 
this  barbarous  isle  upon  our  holy  errand  ten  years 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE,  535 

since ;  but,  under  the  shadow  of  the  Gonfalon  of 
St.  Peter,  we  have  conquered,  and  may  sing 
'Dominus  Illuminatio  mea,'  with  humble  and 
thankful  hearts." 

41 1  don't  know  that,"  said  Ascelin,  "my  Lord 
Uncle;  I  shall  never  sing  'Dominus  illuminatio,'  till 
I  see 'your  coffers  illuminated  once  more  by  those 
thirty  thousand  marks." 

"Or  I,"  said  Ivo  Taillebois,  "  till  I  see  Hereward's 
head  on  Bourne  gable,  where  he  stuck  up  those 
Frenchmen's  heads  seven  years  ago,  as  his  will 
be,  within  a  week  after  he  gets  to  Buckingham 
Castle — where  he  should  be  by  now.  But  what 
the  Lord  Abbot  means  by  saying  that  we  have 
done  with  English  saints  I  do  not  see ;  for  the 
rogues  of  Crowland  have  just  made  a  new  one  for 
themselves." 

"A  new  one?" 

"  I  tell  you  truth  and  fact ;  I  will  tell  you  all,  Lord 
Abbot ;  and  you  shall  judge  whether  it  is  not  enough 
to  drive  an  honest  man  mad  to  see  such  things  going 
on  under  his  nose.  Men  say  of  me  that  I  am  rough, 
and  swear  and  blaspheme.  I  put  it  to  you,  Lord 
Abbot,  if  Job  would  not  have  cursed  if  he  had 
been  Lord  of  Spalding.  You  know  that  the 
king  let  these  Crowland  monks  have  Waltheofs 
body  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  thought  it  an  unwise  act  of  grace.  It 
would  have  been  wiser  to  leave  him,  as  he  intended, 
out  on  the  bare  down,  in  ground  unconsecrate :  but 
what  has  happened  ?" 

"That  old  traitor,  Ulfketyl,  and  his  monks,  bring 
the  body  to  Crowland,  and  bury  it  as  if  it  had  been 
the  Pope's.  In  a  week  they  begin  to  spread  their 
lies — that  Waltheof  was  innocent  ;  that  Archbishop 
Lanfranc  himself  said  so." 

"  That  was  the  only  act  of  human  weakness  which 


536  HEREWARD   THE    WAKE. 

I  have  ever  known  the  venerable  prelate  commit," 
said  Thorold. 

"That  the  burghers  at  Winchester  were  so 
deep  in  the  traitor's  favour,  that  the  king  had 
to  have  him  out  and  cut  off  his  head  in  the 
gray  of  the  morning,  ere  folks  were  up  and 
about;  that  the  fellow  was  so  holy  that  he 
passed  all  his  time  in  prison  in  weeping  and 
praying,  and  said  over  the  whole  Psalter  every 
day,  because  his  mother  had  taught  it  him — 
I  wish  she  had  taught  him  to  be  an  honest  man 
—  and  that  when  his  head  was  on  the  block 
he  said  all  the  Paternoster,  as  far  as  '  Lead  us 
not  into  temptation,'  and  then  off  went  his  head  ; 
whereon,  his  head  being  off,  he  finished  the 
prayer  with — you  know  best  what  conies  next, 
Abbot  ?  " 

"  Deliver  us  from  evil,  Amen  !  What  a  manifest 
lie !  The  traitor  was  not  permitted,  it  is  plain, 
to  ask  for  that  which  could  never  be  granted  to 
him  :  but  his  soul,  unworthy  to  be  delivered  from 
evil,  entered  instead  into  evil,  and  howls  for  ever  in 
the  pit." 

"But  all  the  rest  maybe  true,"  said  one;  "and 
yet  that  be  no  reason  why  these  monks  should 
say  it." 

"So  I  told  them,"  quoth  Taillebois,  "and 
threatened  them  too ;  for,  not  content  with 
making  him  a  martyr,  they  are  making  him  a 
saint." 

"  Impious !  Who  can  do  that,  save  the  Holy 
Father  ?  "  said  Thorold. 

"You  had  best  get  your  bishop  to  look  to  them, 
then  ;  for  they  are  carrying  blind  beggars  and  mad 
girls  by  the  dozen  to  be  cured  at  the  man's  tomb, 
that  is  all.  Their  fellows  in  the  cell  at  Spalding  went 
about  to  take  a  girl  that  had  fits  off  one  of  my 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  537 

manors,  to  cure  her  ;  but  that  I  stopped  with  a  good 
horsewhip." 

"And  rightly." 

"And  gave  the  monks  a  piece  of  my  mind; 
and  drove  them  clean  out  of  their  cell  horn/;  to 
Crowland." 

What  a  piece  of  Ivo's  mind  on  this  occasion  might 
be,  let  Ingulf  describe  : 

"  Against  our  monastery  and  all  the  people 
of  Crowland  he  was,  by  the  instigation  of  the 
devil,  raised  to  such  an  extreme  pitch  of  fury, 
that  he  would  follow  their  animals  in  the 
marshes  with  his  dogs,  drive  them  to  a  great 
distance  down  in  the  lakes,  mutilate  some  in 
the  tails,  others  in  the  ears,  while  often,  by 
breaking  the  backs  and  legs  of  the  beasts  of 
burden,  he  rendered  them  utterly  useless.  Against 
our  cell  also  (at  Spalding)  and  our  brethren,  his 
neighbours,  the  prior  and  monks,  who  dwelt  all 
day  within  his  presence,  he  raged  with  tyrannical 
and  frantic  fury,  lamed  their  oxen  and  horses, 
daily  impounded  their  sheep  and  poultry ;  striking 
down,  killing,  and  slaying  their  swine  and  pigs  ; 
while  at  the  same  time  the  servants  of  the  prior 
were  oppressed  in  the  Earl's  court  with  insup- 
portable exactions,  were  often  assaulted  in  the 
highways  with  swords  and  staves,  and  sometimes 
killed." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  bustle  outside.  The 
door  which  led  from  the  hall  was  thrown  open, 
and  then  rushed  in,  muddy  and  gory,  Oger  the 
Breton. 

"  Have  a  care  for  yourselves,  lordings  !  The  Wake 
is  loose  !  " 

If  the  earth  had  opened  between  them,  the  party 
could  not  have  started  more  suddenly  on  their 
feet. 


538  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

When  their  curses  had  lulled  somewhat,  Oger  told 
his  story  between  great  gulps  of  wine ;  for  he  was 
nigh  dead  with  hard  riding. 

"We  were  in  a  forest,  midway  between  Bedford 
and  Buckingham,  when  the  rascals  dashed  out 
on  us — Gwenoch  and  Winter,  and  the  rest,  with 
that  Ramsey  monk  and  the  Wake  Banner — I 
know  not  how  many  there  were.  We  had  no 
time  to  form,  or  even  arm.  Our  helmets  were 
hanging  at  our  saddle-bows—it  was  all  over  in  a 
minute." 

"Cleverly  done!"  shouted  Ivo,  in  gpite  of  his 
curses ;  for  he  honestly  loved  deeds  of  arms, 
for  him  or  against  him.  "One  Wake  makes 
many." 

"  And  that  old  traitor  of  Herepol  refused  to  fight. 
We  were  past  his  jurisdiction,  he  said.  Your  men, 
Lord  Ivo,  and  Sir  Ralph's  must  guard  the  prisoner, 
if  they  would." 

"  He  has  been  in  league  with  The  Wake  all 
through." 

"That  has  he.  For  when  The  Wake  was  freed 
and  armed,  and  hewing  away  like  a  devilish 
dwarf  as  he  is,  he  always  bade  spare  Sir  Robert, 
crying  that  he  was  his  friend,  and  his  saviour ; 
and  ere  they  parted  the  two  villains  shook  hands 
lovingly,  saying  aloud,  how  Sir  Robert  should  ride 
post  to  the  king,  and  give  him  a  good  report  of 
Here  ward." 

The  comments  which  followed  this  statement  had 
best  be  omitted,  as  they  consisted  wholly  of  French 
oaths. 

"And  how  earnest  thou  alive  hither,  of  all  men? 
asked  the  Abbot  at  last. 

"How?  I  was  smitten  down  at  once,  having 
no  sword  arm,  as  you  know.  But  The  Wake, 
when  he  saw  me  down,  bade  spare  me.  He 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  539 

would  not  slay  me,  lest  the  king  should  say  he  did 
it  for  the  sake  of  my  lands.  I  should  ride  to  you 
here  at  Peterborough,  and  carry  this  message  to 
you  all ;  that  whoso  wanted  his  head  cut  off,  should 
come  to  him  at  Bourne." 

"He  has  promised  to  cut  my  head  off  long 
ago,"  said  Ascelin.  "Earl,  knights,  and  gentle- 
men, do  you  not  think  it  wiser  that  we  should 
lay  our  wits  together  once  and  for  all,  and  cut 
off  his  ?  " 

"But  who  will  catch  The  Wake  sleeping?"  said 
Ivo,  laughing. 

"That  will  I.  I  have  my  plans,  and  my  intelli- 
gencers." 

"  You  your  intelligencers  ?  " 

"  Nobles,  there  is  naught  suits  so  much  my  chival- 
rous humour,  as  the  consoling  of  distressed  ladies.  I 
may  have  visited  the  fair  Alftruda  at  Bourne  ;  I  may 
have  reminded  her  of  certain  old  pleasant  passages 
between  her  and  me." 

"Which  may  end  in  thy  going  over  thy  horse's 
croup,  nephew ;  as  thou  didst  about  another  dame  of 
Hereward's." 

"Uncle?  What  would  a  singer  of  doughty 
deeds,  and  a  doer  thereof  beside,  like  you,  have 
me  do — especially  when  we  both  have  thirty 
thousand  marks  to  avenge  —  save  dare  again  — 
perhaps  to  win  ?  No,  no.  I  lost  that  Torfrida : 
but  I  am  grown  cunninger  now ;  and  Alftruda 
is  an  easier  game  to  fly  at.  I  may  have  said  to 
her,  for  instance,  that  she  had  better  have  chosen 
me;  and  been  answered  by  gentle  wailings  about 
who  should  protect  her  in  her  loneliness :  I  may 
have  offered  to  do  so  myself,  and  been  shrieked 
at  with  '  Out  traitor !  Wretch ! '  and  yet  have 
visited  Bourne  again — in  all  honesty,  mind  you, 
my  lords.  And  I  may  have  talked  with  a  pretty 


540  HERE  WARD  THE   WAKE. 

bower-maiden,  and  have  said  that  though  Abbot 
Thorold  be  poor,  yet  he  has  a  ring-  or  two  left, 
or  an  owch,  or  such-like,  which  might  be  earned 
by  service  due.  And  so  forth.  Wait  for  me,  my 
good  lords  all ;  and  I  will  not  keep  you  waiting- 
long." 

And  so  those  wicked  men  took  counsel  together  to 
slay  Hereward. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  541 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

HOW   HEREWARD   BEGAN   TO   GET   HIS   SOUL'S    PRICE. 

AND  now  behold  Hereward  at  home  again,  fat  with 
the  wages  of  sin,  and  not  knowing  that  they  are 
death. 

He  is  once  more  "  Dominus  de  Brunne  cum 
Marisco,"  Lord  of  Bourne  with  the  fen,  "with  all 
returns  and  liberties  and  all  other  things  adjacent 
to  the  same  vill  which  are  now  held  as  a  barony 
from  the  Lord  King  of  England."  He  has  a  fair 
young  wife,  and  with  her  farms  and  manors  even 
richer  than  his  own.  He  is  still  young,  hearty,  wise 
by  experience,  high  in  the  king's  favour,  and 
deservedly  so. 

Why  should  he  not  begin  life  again  ? 

Why  not?  Unless  it  be  true  that  the  wages  of 
sin  are,  not  a  new  life,  but  death. 

And  yet  he  had  his  troubles.  Hardly  a 
French  knight  or  baron  round  but  had  a  blood- 
feud  against  him,  for  a  kinsman  slain.  Oger 
the  Breton  was  not  likely  to  forgive  his  wounded 
arm.  Sir  Aswart,  Thorold  the  abbot's  man,  was 
not  likely  to  forgive  him  for  turning  him  out  of 
the  three  Manthorpe  manors,  which  he  had  com- 
fortably held  for  two  years  past,  and  sending  him 
back  to  lounge  in  the  abbot's  hall  at  Peter- 
borough, without  a  yard  of  land  which  he  could 
call  his  own.  Sir  Ascelin  was  not  likely  to  forgive 
him  for  marrying  Alftruda,  whom  he  had  intended 
to  marry  himself.  Ivo  Taillebois  was  not  likely 
to  forgive  him  for  existing  within  a  hundred  miles 


54a  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

of  Spalding,  any  more  than  the  wolf  would 
forgive  the  lamb  for  fouling1  the  water  below 
him.  Besides,  had  not  he  (Ivo)  married  Here- 
ward's  niece?  And  what  more  grievous  offence 
could  Hereward  commit,  than  to  be  her  uncle, 
reminding  Ivo  of  his  own  low  birth  by  his 
nobility,  and  too  likely  to  take  Lucia's  part,  when- 
ever it  should  please  Ivo  to  beat  or  kick 
her?  Only  Gilbert  of  Ghent,  "the  pious  and 
illustrious  earl,"  sent  messages  of  congratula- 
tion and  friendship  to  Hereward,  it  being  his 
custom  to  sail  with  the  wind,  and  worship  the 
rising  sun — till  it  should  decline  again. 

But  more:  hardly  one  of  the  Frenchmen  round, 
but,  in  the  conceit  of  their  skin-deep  yesterday's 
civilisation,  looked  on  Hereward  as  a  barbarian 
Englishman,  who  had  his  throat  tattooed,  and 
wore  a  short  coat,  and  preferred — the  churl — to 
talk  English  in  his  own  hall,  though  he  could 
talk  as  good  French  as  they  when  he  was  with 
them,  besides  three  or  four  barbarian  tongues  it 
he  had  need. 

But  more  still :  if  they  were  not  likely  to 
bestow  their  love  on  Hereward,  Hereward  was 
not  likely  to  win  love  from  them  of  his  own 
will.  He  was  peevish  and  wrathful,  often  in- 
solent and  quarrelsome :  and  small  blame  to 
him.  The  French  were  invaders  and  tyrants,  who 
had  no  business  there,  and  would  not  have  been 
there,  if  he  had  had  his  way.  And  they  and  he 
could  no  more  amalgamate  than  fire  and  water. 
Moreover,  he  was  a  very  great  man,  or  had  been 
such  once,  and  he  thought  himself  one  still.  He 
had  been  accustomed  to  command  men,  whole 
armies  ;  and  he  would  no  more  treat  these  French 
as  his  equals,  than  they  would  treat  him  as 
such.  His  own  son-in-law,  Hugh  of  Evermue, 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  543 

had  to  take  hard  words — thoroughly  well  deserved, 
it  may  be  :  but  all  the  more  unpleasant  for  that 
reason. 

The  truth  was,  that  Here  ward's  heart  was  gnawed 
with  shame  and  remorse;  and  therefore  he  fancied, 
and  not  without  reason,  that  all  men  pointed  at  him 
the  finger  of  scorn. 

He  had  done  a  bad,  base,  accursed  deed.  And 
he  knew  it.  Once  in  his  life — for  his  other  sins 
were  but  the  sins  of  his  age — the  Father  of  men 
seems  (if  the  chroniclers  say  truth)  to  have  put 
before  this  splendid  barbarian  good  and  evil,  saying, 
Choose  !  And  he  knew  that  the  evil  was  evil,  and 
chose  it  nevertheless. 

Eight  hundred  years  after,  a  far  greater  genius 
and  greater  general  had  the  same  choice — as 
far  as  human  cases  of  conscience  can  be  alike 
— put  before  him.  And  he  chose  as  Hereward 
chose. 

But  as  with  Napoleon  and  Josephine,  so  it 
was  with  Hereward  and  Torfrida.  Neither  throve 
after. 

It  was  not  punished  by  miracle.  What  sin  is? 
It  worked  out  its  own  punishment;  that  which 
it  merited,  deserved,  or  earned,  by  its  own  labour. 
No  man  could  commit  such  a  sin  without  shaking 
his  whole  character  to  the  root.  Hereward  tried 
to  persuade  himself  that  his  was  not  shaken;  that 
he  was  the  same  Hereward  as  ever.  But  he  could 
not  deceive  himself  long.  His  conscience  was  evil. 
He  was  discontented  with  all  mankind,  and  with 
himself  most  of  all.  He  tried  to  be  good— as  good 
as  he  chose  to  be.  If  he  had  done  wrong  in  one 
thing,  he  might  make,  up  for  it  in  others  :  but  he 
could  not.  All  his  higher  instincts  fell  from  him 
one  by  one.  He  did  not  like  to  think  of  good  and 
noble  things;  he  dared  not  think  of  them.  He  felt, 


544  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

not  at  first,   but  as   the  months    rolled  on,  that 
was   a    changed  man  ;    that  God  had  left  him. 
old  bad   habits   began   to   return   to   him.     Gradu 
he   sank  back   more   and    more   into   the   very  v 
from    which   Torfrida  had   raised   him   sixteen  ye 
before.     He    took    to    drinking    again,    to    dull 
malady  of  thought ;    he  excused  himself  to  hims 
he  wished  to  forget  his  defeats,  his  disappointmi 
the    ruin   of    his    country,    the    splendid    past   wt 
lay  behind  him  like  a  dream.     True  :  but  he  wis 
to    forget    likewise  Torfrida   fasting   and   weeping 
Crowland.     He  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  Growl 
tower    on    the*  far     green     horizon,    the    sound 
Crowland  bells  booming-  over   the  flat  on   the  so 
wind.       He    never    rode    down    into    the    fens ; 
never  went  to  see  his  daughter  at  Deeping,  beca 
Crowland   lay  that  way.     He   went   up  into  the 
Bruneswald  ;  hunted  all  day  long  through  the  gla 
where  he  and  his  merry  men  had  done  their  doug 
deeds ;     and    came    home    in    the    evening    to 
drunk. 

Then  he  lost  his  sleep.     He  sent  down  to  Crowl 
to  Leofric   the   priest,   that  he  might  come  to  h 
and    sing   him    sagas    of    the    old   heroes,    that 
might  get   rest.     But  Leofric   sent  back  for  answ 
that  he  would  not  come. 

That   night   Alftruda    heard   him   by   her    side 
the    still   hours,    weeping    silently   to    himself, 
caressed  him  :  but  he  gave  no  heed  to  her. 

"I  believe,"  said  she  bitterly  at  last,    "that 
love  Torfrida  still  better  than  you  do  me." 

And    Hereward    answered,    like    Mahomet   in 
case,    "That    do    I,    by    Heaven.      She   believed 
me  when  no  one  else  in  the  world  did." 

And    the    vain   hard   Alftnida   answered   angn 
and  there  was  many  a  fierce  quarrel  between  ti 
after  that. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  545 

With  his  love  of  drinking,  his  love  of  boasting 
came  back.  Because  he  could  do  no  more  great 
deeds — or  rather  had  not  the  spirit  left  in  him  to 
do  more — he  must  needs,  like  a  worn-out  old  man, 
babble  of  the  great  deeds  which  he  had  done  ;  insult 
and  defy  his  Norman  neighbours  ;  often  talk  what 
might  be  easily  caricatured  into  treason  against 
King  William  himself. 

There  were  great  excuses  for  his  follies,  as 
there  are  for  those  of  every  beaten  man :  but 
Hereward  was  spent.  He  had  lived  his  life ;  and 
had  no  more  life  which  he  could  live ;  for  every 
man,  it  would  seem,  brings  into  the  world  with 
him  a  certain  capacity,  a  certain  amount  of  vital 
force,  in  body  and  in  soul ;  and  when  that  is  used 
up,  the  man  must  sink  down  into  some  sort  of 
second  childhood ;  and  end,  like  Hereward,  very 
much  where  he  began  :  unless  the  grace  of  God 
shall  lift  him  up  above  the  capacity  of  the  mere 
flesh,  into  a  life  literally  new,  ever-renewing,  ever- 
expanding,  and  eternal. 

But  the  grace  of  God  had  gone  away  from  Here- 
ward, as  it  goes  away  from  all  men  who  are  un- 
faithful to  their  wives. 

It  was  very  pitiable.  Let  no  man  judge  him. 
Life,  to  most,  is  very  hard  work.  There  are  those 
who  endure  to  the  end,  and  are  saved  ;  there  are 
those,  again,  who  do  not  endure :  upon  whose  souls 
may  God  have  mercy. 

So  Hereward  soon  became  as  intolerable  to  his 
Norman  neighbours,  as  they  were  intolerable  to  him  ; 
and  he  had,  for  his  own  safety,  to  keep  up  at  Bourne 
the  same  watch  and  ward,  by  day  and  night,  as  he 
had  kept  up  in  the  forest. 

In  those  days  a  messenger  came  riding  post  to 
Bourne.  The  Countess  Judith  wished  to  visit  the 
tomb  of  her  late  husband,  Earl  Waltheof;  and 
H.W.  s 


546  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

asked  hospitality  on  her  road  of  Hereward  and 
Alftruda. 

Of  course  she  would  come  with  a  great  train, 
and  the  trouble  and  expense  would  be  great. 
But  the  hospitality  of  those  days,  when  money 
was  scarce,  and  wine  scarcer  still,  was  un- 
bounded, and  a  matter  of  course;  and  Alftruda 
was  overjoyed.  No  doubt,  Judith  was  the  most 
unpopular  person  in  England  at  that  moment; 
called  by  all  a  traitress  and  a  fiend.  But  she 
was  an  old  acquaintance  of  Alftruda's;  she  was 
the  king's  niece;  she  was  immensely  rich,  not 
only  in  manors  of  her  own,  but  in  manors,  as 
Domesday  Book  testifies,  about  Lincolnshire  and 
the  counties  round,  which  had  belonged  to  her 
murdered  husband — which  she  had  too  probably 
received  as  the  price  of  her  treason.  So  Alftruda 
looked  to  her  visit  as  to  an  honour  which  would 
enable  her  to  hold  her  head  high  among  the  proud 
French  Dames,  who  despised  her  as  the  wife  of 
an  Englishman. 

Hereward  looked  on  the  visit  in  a  different  light. 
He  called  Judith  ugly  names,  not  undeserved;  and 
vowed  that  if  she  entered  his  house  by  the  front  door 
he  would  go  out  at  the  back.  "  Torfnda  prophesied," 
he  said,  "  that  she  would  betray  her  husband,  and  she 
has  done  it." 

"Torfrida  prophesied?  Did  she  prophesy  that  I 
should  betray  you  likewise?  "  asked  Alftruda,  in  a 
tone  of  bitter  scorn. 

"  No,  you  handsome  fiend  :  will  you  do  it  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  am  a  handsome  fiend,  am  I  not?  "  and 
she  bridled  up  her  magnificent  beauty,  and  stood  over 
him  as  a  snake  stands  over  a  mouse. 

"  Yes;  you  are  handsome — beautiful :  I  adore 
you." 

"  And  yet  you  will  not  do  what  I  wish?  " 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  547 

M  What  you  wish  !  What  would  I  not  do  for  you  ? 
what  have  I  not  done  for  you  ?  " 

"Then  receive  Judith.  And  now,  go  hunting-,  and 
bring  me  in  game.  I  want  deer,  roe,  fowls  ;  anything 
and  everything,  from  the  greatest  to  the  smallest. 
Go  and  hunt." 

And  Hereward  trembled  and  went. 

There  are  flowers  whose  scent  is  so  luscious 
that  silly  children  will  plunge  their  heads  among 
them,  drinking  in  their  odour,  to  the  exclusion 
of  all  fresh  air.  On  a  sudden,  sometimes,  comes 
a  revulsion  of  the  nerves.  The  delicious  odour 
changes  in  a  moment  to  a  disgusting  one ;  and 
the  child  cannot  bear  for  years  after  the  scent 
which  has  once  become  intolerable  by  over- 
sweetness.  And  so  had  it  happened  to  Here- 
ward.  He  did  not  love  Alftruda  now  ;  he  loathed, 
hated,  dreaded  her.  And  yet  he  could  not 
take  his  eyes  for  a  moment  off  her  beauty. 
He  watched  every  movement  of  her  hand,  to 
press  it,  obey  it.  He  would  have  preferred 
instead  of  hunting,  simply  to  sit  and  watch  her 
go  about  the  house  at  her  work.  He  was 
spell-bound  to  at  thing  which  he  regarded  with 
horror. 

But  he  was  told  to  go  and  hunt ;  and  he  went, 
with  all  his  men,  and  sent  home  large  supplies 
for  the  larder.  And  as  he  hunted,  the  free  fresh 
air  of  the  forest  comforted  him,  the  free  forest 
life  came  back  to  him,  and  he  longed  to  be 
an  outlaw  once  more,  and  hunt  on  for  ever.  He 
would  not  go  back  yet,  at  least  to  face  that 
Judith.  So  he  sent  back  the  greater  part  of  his 
men  with  a  story.  He  was  ill :  he  was  laid  up 
at  a  farmhouse  far  away  in  the  forest,  and  begged 
the  countess  to  excuse  his  absence.  He  had  sent 
fresh  supplies  of  game,  and  a  goodly  company 


548  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

of  his  men,  knights  and  housecarles,  who  would 
escort  her  royally  to  Crowland. 

Judith  cared  little  for  his  absence  ;  he  was  but 
an  English  barbarian.  Alftruda  was  half  glad 
to  have  him  out  of  the  way,  lest  his  now  sullen 
and  uncertain  temper  should  break  out  ;  and 
bowed  herself  to  the  earth  before  Judith,  who 
patronised  her  to  her  heart's  content,  and  offered 
her  slily  insolent  condolences  on  being  married  to 
a  barbarian.  She  herself  could  sympathise — who 
more  ? 

Alftruda  might  have  answered  with  scorn  that  she 
was  a  princess,  and  of  better  English  blood  than 
Judith's  French  blood  ;  but  she  had  her  ends  to  gain, 
and  gained  them. 

For  Judith  was  pleased  to  be  so  delighted 
with  her  that  she  kissed  her  lovingly,  and  said 
with  much  emotion  that  she  required  a  friend 
who  would  support  her  through  her  coming 
trial  ;  and  who  better  than  one  who  herself  had 
suffered  so  much  ?  Would  she  accompany  her  to 
Crowland  ? 

Alftruda  was  overjoyed,  and  away  they  went. 

And  to  Crowland  they  came ;  and  to  the  tomb 
in  the  minster,  whereof  men  were  saying  already 
that  the  sacred  corpse  within  worked  miracles  of 
healing. 

And  Judith,  habited  in  widow's  weeds,  approached 
the  tomb,  and  laid  on  it,  as  a  peace-offering  to 
the  soul  of  the  dead,  a  splendid  pall  of  silk  and 
gold. 

A  fierce  blast  came  howling  off  the  fen,  screeched 
through  the  minster  towers,  swept  along  the  dark 
aisles  ;  and  then,  so  say  the  chroniclers,  caught  up 
the  pall  from  off  the  tomb,  and  hurled  it  far  away  into 
a  corner. 

"A  miracle!"  cried  all  the  monks  at  once:   and 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  549 

honestly  enough,  like  true  Englishmen  as  they 
were. 

"The  Holy  Saint  refuses  the  gift,  Countess,"  said 
old  Ulfketyl,  in  a  voice  of  awe. 

Judith  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  turned 
away  trembling,  and  walked  out ;  while  all  looked 
upon  her  as  a  thing  accursed. 

Of  her  subsequent  life,  her  folly,  her  wantonness, 
her  disgrace,  her  poverty,  her  wanderings,  her 
wretched  death,  let  others  tell. 

But  these  Normans  believed  that  the  curse  of 
Heaven  was  upon  her  from  that  day.  And  the  best 
of  them  believed  likewise  that  Waltheofs  murder 
was  the  reason  that  William,  her  uncle,  prospered 
no  more  in  life. 

"  Ah,  saucy  sir,"  said  Alftruda  to  Ulfketyl,  as  she 
went  out.  "There  is  one  waiting  at  Peterborough 
now  who  will  teach  thee  manners  ;  Ingulf  of  Fontenelle, 
abbot  in  thy  room." 

"Does  Hereward  know  that?"  asked  Ulfketyl, 
looking  keenly  at  her. 

"What  is  that  to  thee?"  said  she  fiercely;  and 
flung  out  of  the  minster.  But  Hereward  did  not 
know.  There  were  many  things  abroad,  of  which 
she  told  him  nothing. 

They  went  back,  and  were  landed  at  Deeping 
town,  and  making  their  way  along  the  King 
Street  to  Bourne.  Thereon  a  man  met  them 
running.  They  had  best  stay  where  they  were. 
The  Frenchmen  were  out,  and  there  was  fighting 
up  in  Bourne. 

Alftruda's  knights  wanted  to  push  on,  to  see 
after  the  Bourne  folk ;  Judith's  knights  wanted 
to  push  on  to  help  the  French :  and  the  two 
parties  were  ready  to  fight  each  other.  There 
was  a  great  tumult.  The  ladies  had  much  ado 
to  still  it. 


550  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

Alftruda  said  that  it  might  be  but  a.  country- 
man's rumour ;  that,  at  least,  it  was  shame  to 
quarrel  with  their  guests.  At  last  it  was  agreed 
that  two  knights  should  gallop  on  into  Bourne, 
and  bring  back  news. 

But  those  knights  never  came  back.  So  the  whole 
body  moved  on  Bourne,  and  there  they  found  out  the 
news  for  themselves. 

Hereward  had  gone  home  as  soon  as  they  had 
departed,  and  sat  down  to  eat  and  drink.  His 
manner  was  sad  and  strange.  He  drank  much  at 
the  midday  meal,  and  then  lay  down  to  sleep,  setting 
guards  as  usual. 

After  awhile  he  leapt  up  with  a  shriek  and 
shudder. 

They  ran  to  him,  asking  whether  he  was  ill. 

"111?  No.  Yes.  .Ill  at  heart.  I  have  had 
a  dream  —  an  ugly  dream.  I  thaug-ht  that 
all  the  men  I  ever  slew  on  earth,  came  to  me 
with  their  wounds  all  gfaping,  and  cried  at  me, 
'  Our  luck  then,  thy  luck  now.'  Chaplain !  Is 
there  not  a  verse  somewhere  —  Uncle  Brand  said 
it  to  me  on  his  deathbed — '  Whoso  sheddeth 
man's  blood,  by  man  shall  his  blood  be 
shed'?" 

"  Surely  the  master  is  fey,"  whispered  Gwenoch 
in  fear  to  the  chaplain.  "Answer  him  out  of 
Scripture." 

"Text?  None  such  that  I  know  of,"  quoth 
Priest  Ailward,  a  graceless  fellow,  who  had  taken 
Leofric's  place.  "  If  that  were  the  law,  it  would 
be  but  few  honest  men  that  would  die  in  their 
beds.  Let  us  drink,  and  drive  girls'  fancies  out 
of  our  heads." 

So  they  drank  again  ;  and  Hereward  fell  asleep 
once  more. 

"It     is      thy      turn      to      watch,      priest,"      said 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  551 

Winter  to  Ailward.  "  So  keep  the  door  well, 
for  I  am  worn  out  with  hunting,"  and  so  fell 
asleep. 

Ailward  shuffled  into  his  harness,  and  went  to  the 
door.  The  wine  was  heady  ;  the  sun  was  hot.  In  a 
few  minutes  he  was  asleep  likewise. 

Hereward  slept,  who  can  tell  how  long?  But 
at  last  there  was  a  bustle,  a  heavy  fall ;  and 
waking  with  a  start,  he  sprang  up.  He  saw 
Ailward  lying  dead  across  the  door,  and  above 
him  a  crowd  of  fierce  faces,  some  of  which 
he  knew  too  well.  He  saw  Ivo  Taillebois ;  he 
saw  Oger ;  he  saw  his  fellow-Breton,  Sir  Raoul 
de  Dol ;  he  saw  Sir  Ascelin  ;  he  saw  Sir  Aswart, 
Thorold's  man ;  he  saw  Sir  Hugh  of  Evermue, 
his  own  son-in-law ;  and  with  them  he  saw,  or 
seemed  to  see,  the  Ogre  of  Cornwall,  and  Feargus 
of  Ivark,  and  Dirk  Hammerhand  of  Walcheren, 
and  many  another  old  foe  long  underground  ; 
and  in  his  ear  rang  the  text — "Whoso  sheddeth 
man's  blood,  by  man  shall  his  blood  be 
shed."  And  Hereward  knew  that  his  end  was 
come. 

There  was  no  time  to  put  on  mail  or  helmet.  He 
saw  sword  and  shield  hang  on  a  perch,  and  tore 
them  down.  As  he  girded  the  sword  on,  Winter 
sprang  to  his  side. 

"  I  have  three  lances — two  for  me  and  one 
for  you,*  and  we  can  hold  the  door  against 
twenty." 

"Till  they  fire  the  house  over  our  heads.  Shall 
Hereward  die  like  a  wolf  in  a  cave?  Forward,  all 
The  Wake  men  !  A  Wake  !  A  Wake  ! " 

And  he  rushed  out  upon  his  fate.  No  man 
followed  him,  save  Winter.  The  rest,  dispersed, 
unarmed,  were  running  hither  and  thither 
helplessly. 


552  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

"Brothers  in  arms,  and  brothers  in  Valhalla!" 
shouted  Winter  as  he  rushed  after  him. 

A  knight  was  running  to  and  fro  in  the 
Court,  shouting  Hereward's  name.  "Where  is 
the  villain  ?  Wake  !  We  have  caught  thee  asleep 
at  last." 

"  I  am  out,"  quoth  Hereward,  as  the  man 
almost  stumbled  against  him ;  "  and  this  is 
in." 

And  through  shield,  and  hauberk,  and  body,  as 
says  Gaimar,  went  Hereward's  javelin,  while  all 
drew  back,  confounded  for  the  moment  at  that 
mighty  stroke. 

"Felons!"  shouted  Hereward,  "your  king  has 
given  me  his  truce ;  and  do  you  dare  break 
my  house,  and  kill  my  folk  ?  Is  that  your  French 
law?  And  is  this  your  French  honour?  —  To 
take  a  man  unawares  over  his  meat?  Come  on, 
traitors  all,  and  get  what  you  can  of  a  naked 
man;1  you  will  buy  it  dear  —  Guard  my  back, 
Winter  ! " 

And  he  ran  right  at  the  press  of  knights ;  and  the 
fight  began. 

He  gored  them  like  a  wood  wild  boar, 
As  long  as  that  lance  might  endure, 

says  Gaimar. 

And  when  that  lance  did  break  in  hand, 
Full  fell  enough  he  smote  with  brand. 

And  as  he  hewed  on  silently,  with  grinding  teeth,  and 
hard,  glittering  eyes,  of  whom  did  he  think?  Of 
Alftruda? 

Not    so.      But    01    that   pale    ghost,    with    great 

1  i.e.  without  armour. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  553 

black  hollow  eyes,  who  sat  in  Crowland, 
with  thin  bare  feet,  and  sackcloth  on  her  tender 
limbs,  watching,  praying,  longing,  loving,  un- 
complaining. That  ghost  had  been  for  many  a 
month  the  background  of  all  his  thoughts  and 
dreams.  It  was  so  clear  before  his  mind's  eye 
now,  that  unawares  to  himself,  he  shouted, 
Torfrida  ! "  as  he  struck,  and  struck  the  harder  at 
the  sound  of  his  old  battle-cry. 

And  now  he  is  all  wounded  and  be-bled ;  and 
Winter,  who  has  fought  back  to  back  with  him,  has 
fallen  on  his  face ;  and  Hereward  stands  alone, 
turning  from  side  to  side,  as  he  sweeps  his  sword 
right  and  left  till  the  forest  rings  with  the  blows,  but 
staggering  as  he  turns.  Within  a  ring  of  eleven 
corpses  he  stands.  Who  will  go  in  and  make  the 
twelfth  ? 

A  knight  rushes  in,  to  fall  headlong  down, 
cloven  through  the  helm :  but  Hereward's  blade 
snaps  short,  and  he  hurls  it  away  as  his  foes  rush 
in  with  a  shout  of  joy.  He  tears  his  shield  from 
his  left  arm,  and  with  it,  says  Gaimar,  brains  two 
more. 

But  the  end  is  come.  Taillebois  and  Evermue  are 
behind  him  now  ;  four  lances  are  through  his  back, 
and  bear  him  down  upon  his  knees. 

"Cut  off  his  head,  Breton!"  shouted  Ivo.  Raoul 
de  Dol  rushed  forward,  sword  in  hand.  At  that  cry 
Hereward  lifted  up  his  dying  head.  One  stroke  more 
ere  it  was  all  done  for  ever. 

And  with  a  shout  of  "Torfrida!"  which  made 
the  Bruneswald  ring,  he  hurled  the  shield  full  in  the 
Breton's  face,  and  fell  forward  dead. 

The  knights  drew  their  lances  from  that  terrible 
corpse  slowly  and  with  caution,  as  men  who  have 
felled  a  bear,  and  yet  dare  not  step  within  reach  of 
the  seemingly  lifeless  paw. 


554  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

"Th«  dog  died  hard,"  said  Ivo.  "Lucky  for  us 
that  Sir  Ascelin  had  news  of  his  knights  being  gone  to 
Crowland.  If  he  had  had  them  to  back  him,  we  had 
not  done  this  deed  to-day." 

"  I  must  keep  my  word  with  him,"  said 
Ascelin,  as  he  struck  off  the  once  fair  and  golden 
head. 

"  Ho,  Breton,"  cried  Ivo,  "  the  villain  is  dead. 
Get  up,  man,  and  see  for  yourself.  What  ails 
him?" 

But  when  they  lifted  up  Raoul  de  Dol  his  brains 
were  running  down  his  face ;  and  all  men  stood 
astonished  at  that  last  mighty  stroke. 

"That  blow,"  said  Ascelin,  "will  be  sung  here- 
after by  minstrel  and  maiden  as  the  last  blow  of 
the  last  Englishman.  Knights,  we  have  slain  a 
better  knight  than  ourselves.  If  there  had  been 
three  more  such  men  in  this  realm,  they  would  have 
driven  us  and  King  William  back  again  into  the 
sea." 

So  said  Ascelin  ;  those  words  of  his,  too,  were  sung 
by  many  a  jongleur,  Norman  as  well  as  English,  in 
the  times  that  were  to  come. 

"Likely  enough,"  said  Ivo  ;  "but  that  is  the  more 
reason  why  we  should  set  that  head  of  his  up  over 
the  hall  door,  as  a  warning  to  these  English  churls 
that  their  last  man  is  dead,  and  their  last  stake 
thrown  and  lost." 

So  perished  "The  last  of  the  English." 

It  was  the  third  day.  The  French  were  drinking 
in  the  hall  of  Bourne,  advising  Ascelin,  with  coarse 
jests,  to  lose  no  time  in  espousing  the  fair  Alftruda, 
who  sat  weeping  within  over  the  headless  corpse ; 
when  in  the  afternoon  a  servant  came  in,  and  told 
them  how  a  barge  full  of  monks  had  come  to  the 
shore,  and  that  they  seemed  to  be  monks  from 
Crowland.  Ivo  Taillebois  bade  drive  them  back  again 


HEREWARD    THE  WAKE.  555 

into  the  barge  with  whips.  But  Hugh  of  Evermue 
spoke  up. 

"I  am  lord  and  master  in  Bourne  this  day; 
and  if  Ivo  have  a  quarrel  against  St.  Guthlac,  I 
have  none.  This  Ingulf  of  Fontenelle,  the  new 
abbot  who  has  come  thither  since  old  Ulfketyl 
was  sent  to  prison,  is  a  loyal  man,  and  a  friend  of 
King  William's  ;  and  my  friend  he  shall  be  till  he 
behaves  himself  as  my  foe.  Let  them  come  up  in 
peace." 

Taillebois  growled  and  cursed  :  but' the  monks  came 
up,  and  into  the  hall ;  and  at  their  head  Ingulf  him- 
self, to  receive  whom  all  men  rose,  save  Taillebois. 

"I  come,"  said  Ingulf,  in  most  courtly  French, 
"  noble  knights,  to  ask  a  boon  in  the  name  of  the 
Most  Merciful,  on  behalf  of  a  noble  and  unhappy  lady. 
Let  it  be  enough  to  have  avenged  yourself  on  the 
living.  Gentlemen  and  Christians  war  not  against 
the  dead." 

"No,  no,  Master  Abbot!"  shouted  Taillebois; 
"  Waltheof  is  enough  to  keep  Crowland  in  miracles 
for  the  present.  You  shall  not  make  a  martyr  of 
another  Saxon  churl.  He  wants  the  barbarian's 
body,  knights,  and  you  will  be  fools  if  you  let  him 
have  it." 

"  Churl  ?  Barbarian  ?"  said  a  haughty  voice  ;  and 
a  nun  stepped  forward  who  had  stood  just  behind 
Ingulf.  She  was  clothed  entirely  in  black.  Her  bare 
feet  were  bleeding  from  the  stones :  her  hand,  as  she 
lifted  it,  was  as  thin  as  a  skeleton's. 

She  threw  back  her  veil,  and  showed  to  the 
knights  what  had  been  once  the  famous  beauty  of 
Torfrida. 

But  the  beauty  was  long  passed  away.  Her  hair 
was  white  as  snow ;  her  cheeks  were  fallen  in.  Her 
hawk-like  features  were  all  sharp  and  hard.  Only  in 
their  hollow  sockets  burned  still  the  great  black  eyes, 


556  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

so  fiercely  that  all  men  turned  uneasily  from  her 
gaze. 

"Churl?  Barbarian?"  she  said  slowly  and 
quietly,  but  with  an  intensity  which  was  more 
terrible  than  rage.  "Who  gives  such  names 
to  one  who  was  as  much  better  born  and  better 
bred  than  they  who  now  sit  here,  as  he  was 
braver  and  more  terrible  than  they?  The  base 
woodcutter's  son  ? — The  upstart  who  would  have 
been  honoured  had  he  taken  service  as  yon  dead 
man's  groom  ? " 

"Talk  to  me  so,  and  '  my  stirrup  leathers 
shall  make  acquaintance  with  your  sides,"  said 
Taillebois. 

"  Keep  them  for  your  wife.  Churl  ?  Barbarian  ? 
There  is  not  a  man  within  this  hall  who  is  not 
a  barbarian  compared  with  him.  Which  of  you 
touched  the  harp  like  him  ?  Which  of  you,  like 
him,  could  move  all  hearts  with  song?  Which  of 
you  knows  all  tongues  from  Lapland  to  Provence? 
Which  of  you  has  been  the  joy  of  ladies' 
bowers,  the  counsellor  of  earls  and  heroes, 
the  rival  of  a  mighty  king  ?  Which  of 
you  will  compare  yourself  with  him  —  whom 
you  dared  not  even  strike,  j'ou  and  your 
robber  crew,  fairly  in  front,  but  skulked  round 
him  till  he  fell  pecked  to  death  by  you,  as 
Lapland  Skratlings  peck  to  death  the  bear? 
Ten  years  ago  he  swept  this  hall  of  such  as  you, 
and  hung  their  heads  upon  yon  gable  outside ; 
and  were  he  alive  but  one  five  minutes,  this  hall 
would  be  right  cleanly  swept  again  !  Give  me  his 
body — or  bear  for  ever  the  name  of  cowards,  and 
Torfrida's  curse." 

She  fixed  her  terrible  eyes  first  on  one,  and  then  on 
another,  calling  them  by  name. 

"  Ivo  Taillebois— basest  of  all " 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  557 

"Take  the  witch's  accursed  eyes  off  me!'  and 
he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands."  "  I  shall  be  over- 
looked— planet-struck.  Hew  the  witch  down  !  Take 
her  away  ! " 

"Hugh  of  Evermue — The  dead  man's  daughter 
is  yours,  and  the  dead  man's  lands.  Are  not 
these  remembrances  enough  of  him  ?  Are  you 
so  fond  of  his  memory  that  you  need  his  corpse 
likewise?  " 

"Give  it  her!  Give  it  her!"  said  he,  hanging 
down  his  head  like  a  rated  cur. 

"  Ascelin  of  Lincoln,  once  Ascelin  of  Ghent — There 
was  a  time  when  you  would  have  done — what  would 
you  not? — for  one  glance  of  Torfrida's  eyes. — Stay. 
Do  not  deceive  yourself,  fair  sir.  Torfrida  means  to 
ask  no  favour  of  you,  or  of  living  man.  But  she 
commands  you.  Do  the  thing  she  bids,  or  with  one 
glance  of  her  eye  she  sends  you  childless  to  your 
grave." 

"Madam!  Lady  Torfrida!  What  is  there  I 
would  not  do  for  you  ?  What  have  I  done  now,  save 
avenge  your  great  wrong  ?  " 

Torfrida  made  no  answer  :  but  fixed  steadily  on 
him  eyes  which  widened  every  moment. 

"But,  madam" — and  he  turned  shrinking  from 
the  fancied  spell — "what  would  you  have?  The 
— the  corpse?  It  is  in  the  keeping  of — of  another 
lady." 

"  So  ?  "  said  Torfrida  quietly.     "  Leave  her  to  me  ; 
and  she  swept  past  them  all,  and  flung  open  the  bower 
door  at  their  backs,  discovering  Alftruda  sitting  by 
the  dead. 

The  ruffians  were  so  utterly  appalled,  not  only  by 
the  false  powers  of  magic,  but  by  the  veritable  powers 
of  majesty  and  eloquence,  that  they  let  her  do  what 
she  would. 

"  Out ! "   cried   she.    using    a    short    and    terrible 


558  HEREWARD  THE  WAKE. 

epithet.  "  Out,  siren,  with  fairy's  face  and 
tail  of  fiend,  and  leave  the  husband  with  his 
wife !  " 

Alftruda  looked  up,  shrieked  ;  and  then,  with  the 
sudden  passion  of  a  weak  nature,  drew  a  little  knife, 
and  sprang  up. 

Ivo  made  a  coarse  jest.  The  Abbot  sprang  inj: 
"  For  the  sake  of  all  holy  things,  let  there  be  no  more 
murder  here  ! " 

Torfrida  smiled,  and  fixed  her  snake's  eye  upon  her 
wretched  rival. 

"Out!  woman,  and  choose  thee  a  new  husband 
among  these  French  gallants,  ere  I  blast  thee  from 
head  to  foot  with  the  leprosy  of  Naaman  the 
Syrian." 

Alftruda  shuddered,  and  fled  shrieking  into  an  inner 
room. 

"  Now,  knights,  give  me — that  which  hangs  out 
side." 

Ascelin  hurried  out,  glad  to  escape.  In  a  minute 
he  returned. 

The  head  was  already  taken  down.  A  tall  lay 
brother,  the  moment  he  had  seen  it,  had  climbed 
the  gable,  snatched  it  away,  and  now  sat  in  a 
corner  of  the  yard,  holding  it  on  his  knees, 
talking  to  it,  chiding  it,  as  if  it  had  been  alive. 
When  men  had  offered  to  take  it,  he  had  drawn 
a  battle-axe  from  under  his  frock,  and  threatened 
to  brain  all  comers.  And  the  monks  had  warned 
off  Ascelin,  saying  that  the  man  was  mad,  and 
had  Berserk  fits  of  superhuman  strength  and 
rage. 

"  He  will  give  it  me,"  said  Torfrida,  and  went 
out. 

"Look  at  that  gable,  foolish  head,"  said  the 
madman.  "Ten  years  agone,  you  and  I  took  down 
from  thence  another  head.  Oh,  foolish  head,  to  get 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  559 

yourself  at  last  up  into  that  same  place  !  Why 
would  you  not  be  ruled  by  her,  you  foolish  golden 
head?  " 

"  Martin  !  "  said  Torfrida. 

"  Take  it  and  comb  it,  mistress,  as  you  used  to  do. 
Comb  out  the  golden  locks  again,  fit  to  shine  across 
the  battlefield.  She  has  let  them  all  get  tangled  into 
elf-knots,  that  lazy  slut  within." 

Torfrida  took  it  from  his  hands,  dry-eyed,  and 
went  in. 

Then  the  monks  silently  took  up  the  bier,  and  all 
went  forth,  and  down  the  Roman  road  toward  the 
fen.  They  laid  the  corpse  within  the  barge,  and 
slowly  rowed  away. 

And  past  the  Deeping,  down  the  Wclland  stream, 
By  winding  reaches  on,  and  shining  meres 
Between  gray  reed-ronds  and  green  alder-beds, 
And  the  brown  horror  of  the  homeless  fen, 
A  dirge  of  monks  and  wail  of  women  rose 
In  vain  to  Heaven  for  the  last  Englishman  ; 
Then  died  far  off  within  the  boundless  mist, 
And  left  the  Frenchman  master  of  the  land. 

So  Torfrida  took  the  corpse  home  to  Crowland, 
and  buried  it  in  the  choir,  near  the  blessed 
martyr  St.  Waltheof;  after  which  she  did  not 
die,  but  lived  on  many  years,1  spending  all  day 
in  nursing  and  feeding  the  Countess  Godiva,  J 
lying  all  night  on  Hereward's  tomb,  and  praying 
that  he  might  find  grace  and  mercy  in  that 


n    at  last  Godiva  died;  and  they  took  her  away, 
and  buried  her  with  great  pomp  in  her  own  ram 

'  And  after^that  Torfrida  died  likewise;  because  she 

»  If  Ingulf  can  be  trusted,  To.frida  died  about  A.D.  1085. 


560  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

had  nothing  else  for  which  to  live.  And  they  laid 
her  in  Hereward's  grave,  and  their  dust  is  mingled  to 
this  day. 

And  Oger  the  Breton  got  back  Morcar's  lands,  and 
held  them  at  least  till  the  time  of  Domesday  Book. 
But  Manthorpe,  Toft,  and  Witham,  Aswart,  Thorold's 
man,  got  back  ;  and  they  were  held  for  several 
centuries  by  the  Abbey  of  Peterborough,  seemingly  as 
some  set  off  for  Abbot  Thorold's  thirty  thousand 
marks. 

And  Ivo  Taillebois  did  evil  mightily  all  his  days  ; 
and  how  he  died,  and  what  befell  him  after  death,  let 
Peter  of  Blois  declare. 

And  Leofric  the  priest  lived  on  to  a  good  old  age, 
and  above  all  things  he  remembered  the  deeds  and  the 
sins  of  his  master  ;  and  wrote  them  in  a  book,  and 
this  is  what  remains  thereof. 

But  when  Martin  Lightfoot  died  no  man  has  said  ; 
for  no  man  in  those  days  took  account  of  such  poor 
churls  and  running  serving-men. 

And  Hereward's  comrades  were  all  scattered 
abroad,  some  maimed,  some  blinded,  some  with 
tongues  cut  out,  to  beg  by  the  wayside,  or  crawl 
into  convents,  and  then  die ;  while  their  sisters 
and  daughters,  ladies  born  and  bred,  were  the 
slaves  of  grooms  and  scullions  from  beyond  the 
sea. 

And  so,  as  sang  Thorkel  Skallason— 

Cold  heart  and  bloody  hand  l 
Now  rule  English  land. 

And  after  that  things  waxed  even  worse  and 
worse,  for  sixty  years  and  more  ;  all  through 
the  reigns  of  the  two  Williams,  and  of  Henry 
Beauclerc,  and  of  Stephen ;  till  men  saw  visions 

i  Laing's  Hsimskringla. 


HEREWARD  THE   WAKE.  =61 

O 

and  portents,  and  thought  that  the  foul  fiend 
was  broken  loose  on  earth.  And  they  whispered 
oftener  and  oftener  that  the  soul  of  Hereward 
haunted  the  Bruneswald,  where  he  loved  to  hunt 
the  dun  deer  and  the  roe.  And  in  the  Brunes- 
wald, when  Henry  of  Poitou  was  made  abbot,1 
men  saw — "  let  no  man  think  lightly  of  the  marvel 
which  we  are  about  to  relate  as  a  truth,  for  it 
was  well  known  all  over  the  country — upon  the 
Sunday,  when  men  sing,  '  Exsurge  quare,  O 
Domine,'  many  hunters  hunting,  black,  and  tall, 
and  loathly,  and  their  hounds  were  black  and 
ugly  with  wide  eyes,  and  they  rode  on  black 
horses  and  black  bucks.  And  they  saw  them  in 
the  very  deer  park  in  the  town  of  Peterborough, 
and  in  all  the  woods  to  Stamford  ;  and  the  monks 
heard  the  blasts  of  the  horns  which  they  blew  in 
the  night.  Men  of  truth  kept  watch  upon  them, 
and  said  that  there  might  be  well  about  twenty  or 
thirty  horn-blowers.  This  was  seen  and  heard  all 
that  Lent  until  Easter."  And  the  French  monks  of 
Peterborough  said  how  it  was  The  Wake,  doomed  to 
wake  for  ever  with  Apollyon  and  all  his  crew,  because 
he  had  stolen  the  riches  of  the  Golden  Borough  :  but 
the  poor  folk  knew  better,  and  said,  That  the  mighty 
outlaw  was  rejoicing  in  the  chase,  blowing  his  horn 
for  Englishmen  to  rise  against  the  French  ;  and 
therefore  it  was  that  he  was  seen  first  on  "  Arise  O 
Lord  "  Sunday. 

But  they  were  so  sore  trodden  down  that  they 
could  never  rise  ;  for  "the  French9  had  filled  the 
land  full  of  castles.  They  greatly  oppressed  the 
wretched  people  by  making  them  work  at  these 
castles  ;  and  when  the  castles  were  finished,  they 
filled  them  with  devils  and  evil  men.  They  took 

'  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle,  A.D.  1127. 
•Ibid.  A.D   1137. 


562  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

those  whom  they  suspected  of  having  any  goods, 
both  men  and  women,  and  they  put  them  in  prison 
for  their  gold  and  silver,  and  tortured  them  with 
pains  unspeakable,  for  never  were  any  martyrs 
tormented  as  these  were.  They  hung  some  by 
their  feet,  and  smoked  them  with  foul  smoke;  some 
by  the  thumbs  or  by  the  head,  and  put  burning 
things  on  their  feet.  They  put  a  knotted  string 
round  their  heads,  and  twisted  it  till  it  went  into 
the  brain.  They  put  them  in  dungeons  wherein 
were  adders,  and  snakes,  and  toads,  and  thus  wore 
them  out.  Some  they  put  into  a  crucet-house — that 
is,  into  a  chest  that  was  short  and  narrow,  and  they 
put  sharp  stones  therein,  and  crushed  the  man  so 
that  they  broke  all  his  bones.  There  were  hateful 
and  grim  things  called  Sachenteges  in  many  of  the 
castles,  which  two  or  three  men  had  enough  to  do  to 
carry.  This  Sachentege  was  made  thus  : — It  was 
fastened  to  a  beam,  having  a  sharp  iron  to  go  round  a 
man's  throat  and  neck,  so  that  he  might  no  ways  sit, 
nor  lie,  nor  sleep,  but  he  must  bear  all  the  iron. 
Many  thousands  they  wore  out  with  hunger.  .  .  . 
They  were  continually  levying  a  tax  from  the  towns, 
which  they  called  Truserie,  and  when  the  wretched 
townsfolk  had  no  more  to  give,  then  burnt  they  all  the 
towns,  so  that  well  mightest  thou  walk  a  whole  day's 
journey  or  ever  thou  shouldest  see  a  man  settled  in  a 
town,  or  its  lands  tilled.  .  .  . 

"  Then  was  corn  dear,  and  flesh,  and  cheese,  and 
butter,  for  there  are  none  in  the  land.  Wretched  men 
starved  with  hunger.  Some  lived  on  alms  who  had 
been  once  rich.  Some  fled  the  country.  Never  was 
there  more  misery,  and  never  heathens  acted  worse 
than  these." 

For  now  the  sons  of  the  Church's  darlings,  of  the 
Crusaders  whom  the  Pope  had  sent,  beneath  a 
gonfanon  blessed  by  him,  to  destroy  the  liberties  of 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  563 

England,  turned,  by  a  just  retribution,  upon  that 
very  French  clergy  who  had  abetted  all  their 
iniquities  in  the  name  of  Rome.  "They  spared 
neither  church  nor  churchyard,  but  took  all  that 
was  valuable  therein,  and  then  burned  the  church 
and  all  together.  Neither  did  they  spare  the  lands 
of  bishops,  nor  'of  abbots,  nor  of  priests :  but 
they  robbed  the  monks  and  clergy,  and  every  man 
plundered  his  neighbour  as  much  as  he  could.  If 
two  or  three  men  came  riding  to  a  town,  all  the 
townsfolk  fled  before  them,  and  thought  that  they 
were  robbers.  The  bishops  and  clergy  were  for  ever 
cursing  them  :  but  this  to  them  was  nothing,  for 
they  were  all  accursed  and  forsworn  and  reprobate. 
The  earth  bare  no  corn  :  you  might  as  well  have 
tilled  the  sea  ;  for  all  the  land  was  ruined  by  such 
deeds,  and  it  was  said  openly  that  Christ  and  His 
saints  slept." 

And  so  was  avenged  the  blood  of  Harold  and  his 
brothers,  of  Edwin  and  Morcar,  of  Waltheof  and 
Hereward. 

And  those  who  had  the  spirit  of  Hereward  in  them, 
fled  to  the  merry  greenwood,  and  became  bold  out- 
laws, with  Robin  Hood,  Scarlet,  and  John,  Adam 
Bell,  and  Clym  of  the  Cleugh,  and  William  of 
Cloudeslee ;  and  watched  with  sullen  joy  the  French 
robbers  tearing  in  pieces  each  other,  and  the  Church 
who  had  blest  their  crime. 

And  they  talked  and  sang  of  The  Wake,  and  all 
his  doughty  deeds,  over  the  hearth  in  lone  farm- 
houses, or  in  the  outlaw's  lodge  beneath  the  hollins 
green  ;  and  all  the  burden  of  their  song  was,  "  Ah 
that  The  Wake  were  alive  again!"  for  they  knew 
not  that  The  Wake  was  alive  for  evermore:  that 
only  his  husk  and  shell  lay  mouldering  there  in 
Crowland  choir ;  that  above  them,  and  around 
them,  and  in  them,  destined  to  raise  them  out  of 


564  HEREWARD   THE   WAKE. 

that  bitter  bondage,  and  mould  them  into  a  great 
nation,  and  the  parents  of  still  greater  nations 
in  lands  as  yet  unknown,  brooded  the  immortal 
spirit  of  The  Wake,  now  purged  from  all  earthly 
dross  —  even  the  spirit  of  Freedom,  which  can 
never  die. 


HEREWARD   THE   WAKE.  565 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

HOW    DEEPING   FEN    WAS    DRAINED. 

BUT  war  and  disorder,  ruin  and  death,  cannot  last 
for  ever.  They  are  by  their  own  nature  exceptional 
and  suicidal,  and  spend  themselves  with  what  they 
feed  on.  And  then  the  true  laws  of  God's  universe, 
peace  and  order,  usefulness  and  life,  will  reassert 
themselves,  as  they  have  been  waiting-  all  along  to 
do,  hid  in  God's  presence  from  the  strife  of  men. 

And  even  so  it  was  with  Bourne. 

Nearly  eighty  years  after,  in  the  year  of  grace, 
1155,  there  might  have  been  seen  sitting,  side  by 
side,  and  hand  in  hand,  upon  a  sunny  bench  on  the 
Bruneswald  slope,  in  the  low  December  sun,  an  old 
knight  and  an  old  lady,  the  master  and  mistress  ot 
Bourne. 

Much  had  changed  since  Hereward's  days.  The 
house  below  had  been  raised  a  whole  story.  There 
were  fresh  herbs  and  flowers  in  the  garden,  unknown 
at  the  time  of  the  Conquest.  But  the  great  change 
was  in  the  fen,  especially  away  toward  Deeping,  on 
the  south-eastern  horizon. 

Where  had  been  lonely  meres,  foul  watercourses, 
stagnant  slime,  there  were  now  great  dykes,  rich  and 
fair  corn  and  grass  lands,  rows  of  white  cottages. 
The  newly-drained  land  swarmed  with  stocks  of  ne\v 
breeds :  horses  and  sheep  from  Flanders,  cattle  from 
Normandy  ;  for  Richard  de  Rulos  was  the  first — as 
far  as  history  tells — of  that  noble  class  of  agricultural 
squires,  who  are  England's  blessing  and  England's 
pride. 


566  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

"  For  this  Richard  de  Rulos,"  says  Ingulf,  or 
whoever  wrote  in  his  name,  "who  had  married  the 
daughter  and  heiress  of  Hugh  of  Evermue,  Lord  of 
Bourne  and  Deeping,  being  a  man  of  agricultural 
pursuits,  got  permission  from  the  monks  of  Crowland, 
for  twenty  marks  of  silver,  to  enclose  as  much  as  he 
would  of  the  common  marshes.  So  he  shut  out  the 
Welland  by  a  strong  embankment,  and  building 
thereon  numerous  tenements  and  cottages,  till  in  a 
short  time  he  formed  a  large  '  vill,'  marked  out 
gardens,  and  cultivated  fields  ;  while,  by  shutting  out 
the  river,  he  found  in  the  meadow  land,  which  had 
been  lately  deep  lakes  and  impassable  marshes  (where- 
fore the  place  was  called  Deeping,  the  deep  meadow), 
most  fertile  fields  and  desirable  lands,  and  out  of 
sloughs  and  bogs  accursed  made  quite  a  garden  of 
pleasaunce." 

So  there  the  good  man,  the  beginner  of  the  good 
work  of  centuries,  sat  looking  out  over  the  fen,  and 
listening  to  the  music  which  came  on  the  southern 
breeze,  above  the  low  of  the  kine,  and  the  clang  of 
the  wild-fowl  settling  down  to  rest,  from  the  bells  of 
Crowland  Minster  far  away. 

They  were  not  the  same  bells  which  tolled  for  Here- 
ward  and  Torfrida.  Those  had  run  down  in  molten 
streams  upon  that  fatal  night  when  Abbot  Ingulf 
leapt  out  of  bed  to  see  the  vast  wooden  sanctuary 
wrapt  in  one  sheet  of  roaring  flame,  from  the  careless- 
ness of  a  plumber  who  had  raked  the  ashes  over  his 
fire  in  the  bell-tower,  and  left  it  to  smoulder  through 
the  night. 

Then  perished  all  the  riches  of  Crowland  ;  its  library 
too,  of  more  than  seven  hundred  volumes,  with  that 
famous  Nadir,  or  Orrery,  the  like  whereof  was  not  in 
all  England,  wherein  the  seven  planets  were  repre- 
sented, each  in  their  proper  metals.  And  even  worse, 
all  the  charters  of  the  monastery  perished,  a  loss 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE.  567 

which  involved  the  monks  thereof  in  centuries  of  law- 
suits, and  compelled  them  to  become  as  industrious 
and  skilful  forgers  of  documents  as  were  to  be  found 
in  the  minsters  of  the  middle  age. 

But  Crowland  Minster  had  been  rebuilt  in  greater 
glory  than  ever,  by  the  help  of  the  French  gentry 
round.  Abbot  Ingulf,  finding  that  St.  Guthlac's 
plain  inability  to  take  care  of  himself  had  discredited 
him  much  in  the  fen-men's  eyes,  fell  back,  Frenchman 
as  he  was,  on  the  virtues  of  the  holy  martyr,  St. 
Waltheof,  whose  tomb  he  opened  with  due  reverence, 
and  found  the  body  as  whole  and  uncorrupted  as  on 
the  day  on  which  it  was  buried  ;  and  the  head  united 
to  the  body,  while  a  fine  crimson  line  around  the  neck 
was  the  only  sign  remaining  of  his  decollation. 

On  seeing  which  Ingulf  "  could  not  contain  himself 
for  joy ;  and  interrupting  the  response  which  the 
brethren  were  singing,  with  a  loud  voice  began  the 
hymn  '  Te  Deum  Laudamus,'  on  which  the  chaunter, 
taking  it  up,  enjoined  the  rest  of  the  brethren  to  sing 
it."  After  which  Ingulf — who  had  never  seen 
Waltheof  in  life — discovered  that  it  was  none  other 
than  he  whom  he  had  seen  in  a  vision  at  Fontenelle, 
as  an  earl  most  gorgeously  arrayed,  with  a  tore  of 
gold  about  his  neck,  and  with  him  an  abbot,  two 
bishops,  and  two  saints,  the  three  former  being  Usfran, 
Ausbert,  and  Wandresigil  of  Fontenelle  ;  and  the  two 
saints,  of  course,  St.  Guthlac  and  St.  Neot. 

Whereon,  crawling  on  his  hands  and  knees,  he 
kissed  the  face  of  the  holy  martyr,  and  "  perceived 
such  a  sweet  odour  proceeding  from  the  holy  body,  as 
he  never  remembered  to  have  smelt,  either  in  the 
palace  of  the  king,  or  in  Syria  with  all  its  aromatic 
herbs." 

Quid  plura?  What  more  was  needed  for  a  convent 
of  burnt-out  monks?  St.  Waltheof  was  translated 
in  state  to  the  side  of  St.  Guthlac ;  and  the  news  of 


568  HEREWARD  THE   WAKE. 

this  translation  of  the  holy  martyr  being  spread 
throughout  the  country,  multitudes  of  the  faithful 
flocked  daily  to  the  tomb,  and  offering  up  their  vows 
there,  tended  in  a  great  degree  to  "  resuscitate  our 
monastery." 

But  more.  The  virtues  of  St.  Waltheof  were  too 
great  not  to  turn  themselves,  or  be  turned,  to  some 
practical  use.  So  if  not  in  the  days  of  Ingulf,  at 
least  in  those  of  Abbot  Joffrid  who  came  after  him, 
St.  Waltheof  began  again,  says  Peter  of  Blois,  to 
work  wonderful  deeds.  "The  blind  received  their 
sight,  the  deaf  their  hearing,  the  lame  their  power 
of  walking,  and  the  dumb  their  power  of  speech  ; 
while  each  day  troops  innumerable  of  other  sick 
persons  were  arriving  by  every  road,  as  to  the  very 
fountain  of  their  safety  .  .  .  and  by  the  offerings  of 
the  pilgrims  who  came  flocking  in  from  every  part, 
the  revenues  of  the  monastery  were  increased  in  no 
small  degree." 

Only  one  wicked  Norman  monk  of  St.  Albans, 
Audwin  by  name,  dared  to  dispute  the  sanctity  of 
the  martyr,  calling  him  a  wicked  traitor  who  had  met 
with  his  deserts.  In  vain  did  Abbot  Joffrid,  himself  a 
Norman  from  St.  Evroult,  expostulate  with  the 
inconvenient  blasphemer.  He  launched  out  into 
invective  beyond  measure  ;  till  on  the  spot,  in  presence 
of  the  said  father,  he  was  seized  with  such  a  stomach- 
ache, that  he  went  home  to  St.  Albans,  and  died 
in  a  few  days ;  after  which  all  went  well  with 
Crowland,  and  the  French  monks,  who  worked  the 
English  martyr  to  get  money  out  of  the  English  whom 
they  had  enslaved. 

And  yet — so  strangely  mingled  for  good  and  evil 
are  the  works  of  men — that  lying  brotherhood  of 
Crowland  set  up,  in  those  very  days,  for  pure  love 
of  learning  and  of  teaching  learning,  a  little  school 
«f  letters  in  a  poor  town  hard  by;  which 


HEREWARD   THE  WAKE.  569 

became,    under    their    auspices,    the     University    of 
Cambridge. 

So  the  bells  of  Crowland  were  restored,  more 
melodious  than  ever  ;  and  Richard  of  Rulos  doubt- 
less had  his  share  in  their  restoration.  And 
that  day  they  were  ringing  with  a  will,  and  for 
a  good  reason  ;  for  that  day  had  come  the  news, 
that  Henry  Plantagenet  was  crowned  king  of 
England. 

"  '  Lord,'  "  said  the  good  old  knight,  "  '  now  lettest 
thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace.'  This  day,  at 
last,  he  sees  an  English  king  head  the  English 
people." 

"God  grant,"  said  the  old  lady,  "that  he  may 
be  such  a  lord  to  England,  as  thou  hast  been  to 
Bourne." 

"If  he  will  be — and  better  far  will  he  be,  by  God's 
grace,  from  what  I  hear  of  him,  than  ever  I  have 
been — he  must  learn  that  which  I  learnt  from  thee  : 
to  understand  these  English  men,  and  know  what 
stout  and  trusty  prudhommes  they  are  all,  down  to 
the  meanest  serf,  when  once  one  can  humour  their 
sturdy  independent  tempers." 

"And  he  must  learn,  too,  the  lesson  which  thou 
didst  teach  me,  when  I  would  have  had  thee,  in  the 
pride  of  youth,  put  on  the  magic  armour  of  my 
ancestors,  and  win  me  fame  in  every  tournament  and 
battlefield.  Blessed  be  the  day  when  Richard  of 
Rulos  said  to  me,  '  If  others  dare  to  be  men  of  war, 
I  dare  more ;  for  I  dare  to  be  a  man  of  peace. 
Have  patience  with  me,  and  I  will  win  for  thee 
and  for  myself  a  renown  more  lasting,  before  God 
and  man,  than  ever  was  won  with  lance  ! '  Do  you 
remember  those  words,  Richard  mine  ?  " 

The  old  man  leant  his  head  upon  his  hands.  "  It 
may  be  that  not  those  words,  but  the  deeds  which 
God  has  caused  to  follow  them,  may,  by  Christ's 


570 


HEREWARD    THE  WAKE. 


merits,  bring  us  a  short  purgatory  and  a  long 
heaven. " 

"Amen.  Only  whatever  grief  we  may  endure  in 
the  next  life  for  our  sins,  may  we  endure  it  as  we 
have  the  griefs  of  this  life,  hand  in  hand." 

"Amen,  Torfrida.  There  is  one  thing  more  to 
do  before  we  die.  The  tomb  in  Crowland  ; — Ever 
since  the  fire  blackened  it,  it  has  seemed  to  me  too 
poor  and  mean  to  cover  the  dust  which  once  held 
two  such  noble  souls.  Let  us  send  over  to  Normandy 
for  fair  white  stone  of  Caen,  and  let  us  carve  a 
tomb  worthy  of  thy  grandparents." 

"And  what  shall  we  write  thereon?" 

"What  but  that  which  is  there  already?  'Here 
lies  the  last  of  the  English.' " 

"Not  so.  We  will  write  —  'Here  lies  the  last 
of  the  old  English.'  But  upon  thy  tomb,  when 
thy  time  comes,  the  monks  of  Crowland  shall  write  — 

" '  Here  lies  the  first  of  the  new  English  ;  who, 
by  the  inspiration  of  God,  began  to  drain  the  Fens.'" 


PR  4842  .H4  1900  SMC 
Kingsley,  Charles, 
Hereward  the  Wake